SweetHeart
by nikkisixirresistiblebitch
Summary: [Human AU] Mystic Falls bachelor, Damon Salvatore, begins therapy in order to figure out why his romantic relationship fail miserably. His therapist thinks it would be a good idea for him to have a sex surrogate. There are rules. Ethics in this kind of thing. He's not think it is real, this thing between them. He's certainly not supposed to fall in love with her.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Mystic Falls bachelor, Damon Salvatore, begins therapy in order to figure out why his romantic relationship fail miserably. His therapist thinks it would be a good idea for him to have a sex surrogate. There are rules. Ethics in this kind of thing. He's not think it is real, this thing between them. He's certainly not supposed to fall in love with her.

 **Author's Note** **:** A **sexual surrogate** , sometimes called a **surrogate** partner (sex coach), is a member of a **sex** therapy team consisting of client(s), supervising therapist, and **surrogate**.

* * *

 **SWEETHEART**

 _ **CHAPTER ONE**_

" _It started with a date at a café and ended with a date at a café…"_

"So I'm supposed to tell you about my feelings, right? I am supposed to lament about my mother. My father. My brother. My dislike of pickles since I was a small boy. I almost choked on one when I was five. Hated them ever since," Damon Salvatore's voice dropped an octave, denoting the seriousness of his hate for pickles.

Damon Salvatore reclined in the soft, brown leather couch in Sandra Brikham's office. She and another therapist, Nick Cassaov, shared the private practice, located might cozily on the outskirts of Central Virginia.

Damon planned to visit King's Dominion after this. Roller Coasters were calling his name.

Sandra Brikham raised one perfect strawberry blonde eyebrow. She resisted the urge to smile with her teeth. Instead, her eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines in her mouth creased, just slightly.

"It's okay," Damon said, granting permission. "I am witty. You are welcome to be amused."

Brikham seemed to take a breath before responding, more for her client's benefit than hers.

"I'd rather talk about why you are here. You sought therapeutic services from our clinic." Brikham paused. She looked down at her papers, various consent forms on her lap, and Damon's intake form with his basic psychosocial information. Name, age, and address. General and mental health history. Work history and the like. A cheat-sheet of sorts.

"It was Stefan's idea that I see a shrink. He's reading _The Golden Notebook_ again or something. He thinks it's a good idea that I let someone take a look inside my head. Preferably a professional."

"Stefan? Your brother? That's a strong suggestion. Not many people feel they need therapy. Or listen when someone tells them that it would be helpful. Do you listen to your brother often?" Brikham asked.

Damon's smile slipped. Right off of his face, landing on the floor somewhere near his feet. It's an innocent question, sure. But Damon has the sinking feeling that it has gotten too deep, way too soon.

Isn't there some sort of warm-up first?

"You stopped smiling," Brikham observed. "Did I say something wrong?"

"N-no. Not really," Damon's words tripped out, belying his denial. "It's just that Stefan would eat that question up. The waves in his forehead would probably be nodding in agreement right now." Damon wiggled his fingers to imitate the waves, the spark back in his eyes again. Amused at his own joke.

Brikham stared at Damon, her teeth ticking at a thought before jotting something down on the papers in her lap.

Damon sat up straighter. His hands smoothing over his jeans, rubbing off the sweat gathering on his palms.

Damon's issues out a noise, a cross between a laugh and a huff, "You're writing stuff down already. This can't be good."

"I was just writing something to go back to in our later sessions, should you decide to continue with therapy. It doesn't seem appropriate to bring up right now, so early."

"What? You don't have to handle me with kid gloves. I'm a _big_ boy." Damon's mouth rounded around the words, suggestive. A bit seductive. He's not above banging his therapist. He's all for new experiences.

"Okay. I'll take your word for it, "Brikham nodded. "You seem to tense up when your brother is mentioned. Are you on good terms with him?"

Damon out right frowned, shaking his head. His nostrils flaring on a breath in "I don't know what you're are implying. I love my brother."

"I wasn't implying that you didn't –"

Damon held up a hand to interrupt. "Yeah. No. We're done. We are done."

He gathered his form from the couch, picked up his jacket and baseball cap. He gets stuck on the fact that it isn't his hat, but Stefan's. Damon's cap is navy blue with white lettering. The cap in his hand is white with navy blue lettering.

"Um. I don't think this is going to work out," Damon looks up from the cap and jacket in his hands, squinting.

* * *

"How was it?" Stefan stretched his neck up and back, instead of turning around. Damon's face upside down in his view. Stefan's body was prone on the couch. He didn't bother to remove his tie or dress shirt after work. Just pulled the offending fabric from his throat, white shirt rolled up to his forearms.

"How was what?" Damon asked, momentarily lost as to Stefan's meaning.

"Therapy." Stefan's chin tipped up.

Damon grimaced, "She's a quack."

"Really. Caroline seemed to really like her. Said Brikham really helped her."

"Yeah, well. Caroline is a quack too. And fix your face. It's weird having a conversation with your chin."

Stefan smirked and righted his position, adjusting his neck to face Damon properly. "She said something."

"No. What do you mean?" Damon frowned. He was doing that a lot today and it was pissing him off.

"Well she must have said something because you're all angry and tense. Was It about Katherine?"

Damon ruffled Stefan's hair, patting him like a dog, or a very obedient kid. "We didn't get that far. What's for dinner?"

Stefan batted Damon's hand away and smoothed his hair into place, willing to allow Damon to change the subject for now. "I don't know. It's your turn to cook. There's steak. We can have steak. Or we can go out. You never take me out to dinner anymore." Stefan pouted. He stood up and placed his hands on his hips.

Damon slinked over to where Stefan was standing and replied, "Well, wear your prettiest dress, darling and I'll show you a good time.

The brothers succeeded in holding in their laughter for all of five seconds.

* * *

He promised he wouldn't go back.

He went to work. He slaved away from nine to five. (4:55, actually). As Chief Executive Officer, he saw to it that Salvatore Construction Corporation ran smoothly from day to day.

He swore he wouldn't go back. On his dead mother's grave.

He went back.

"You've had a lot of success for someone so young. I wonder how it might affect your relationships with those around you."

Damon noticed that Brikham does that a lot now. She won't ask a question. Not really. She'll … wonder out loud or some therapeutic shit like that.

"Things are great. I mean, people like me. Hell, people love me. Stefan and I were featured in _Forbes_ three times. I get pussy anytime I want. I walk into a bar and guys buy me a beer even though I can afford to buy everyone in the bar a drink many times over. I'm good."

"But, and this is just from my perspective, it must be difficult to be so many things to so many people. A boss. A brother. A lover, apparently."

"Sure, I mean it's not all it's cracked up to be." Damon gave a long dramatic pause. He covered his mouth, and appeared to stifle a sob. "Sometimes it gets so hard."

Brikham leaned over her chair, her hand outstretched to the box of tissues on her desk.

"I'm kidding. It's fucking awesome! Seriously, why the hell would I be complaining?"

"When is the last time you had a girlfriend?"

Damon likes this approach better. Brikham asking questions straight no chaser.

"Maybe two years ago. I'm not hurting or anything. It just didn't work out."

"Elena, yes? That was her name?"

"Yeah. Elena. She and I were hot and heavy and it just –" Damon did his best imitation of a car crash before continuing, "crashed and burn."

"No hard feelings?" Brikham prompted.

"No. I mean my brother was a bit relieved. He thought we were too intense. Like Angelina/Billy Bob intense. I was so close to having a vial of blood around my neck," Damon joked.

"Did you know Elena for a long time?"

"A few years. She was engaged to Stefan. But then that just got boring for both of them. So me and her got together."

Brikham blinked quite a bit. The pen in her hand touched her mouth several times before she continued. "You formed a romantic relationship with your brother's fiancé." It wasn't a question. Just a statement hoping for clarification.

Damon's eyes squinted, "You're judging. I feel like you are judging me."

"I guess I am just surprised. It just seems complicated; some would say simply wrong. For instance, I wouldn't dream of crossing that boundary with my sister," Brikham self-disclosed.

Damon leans in as if sharing a tremendous secret, "It's not a big deal. It happened before. We dated the same girl before."

"Really?" Brikham sat up straight in her chair, like they were getting somewhere finally.

"Yeah. Katherine. I told you about her. He dated her first. Rose. Caroline. But Caroline was just sex and Rose only dated me for like a week after going on a blind date with Stefan, so that doesn't count."

"So it seems like you like the same women," Brikham stated, keeping her voice neutral to let Damon stir this part of their session.

"I wouldn't say we like the same women. There are countless females we don't share."

"Female what?" Brikham inquired.

"What do you mean?" Damon was on a roll and he didn't feel like getting stuck on trivial things.

"Female implies gender. But it doesn't indicate species. So when you say female, do you mean female dog, female goat, female –"

Damon held up a hand to interrupt, "I get it. Woman. Is that better?"

Brikham smirks, "Well it does help to clarify what we are talking about."

"Yeah. I bet you say that to all the guys," Damon pops a button on his suit jacket. The first time he was here, he wore very casual clothing, opting to take off a day from work for his first therapy session. Now, fitting in a session every Thursday for lunch was the norm.

"I would really like to try something with you because I feel that while you seem to be very confident in many areas of your life, it seems to me that you still struggle with intimacy with others."

"My sex life is pretty regular."

"I'm sure it is. But that is not the only type of intimacy I mean. All of the major relationships you've had, Katherine and then Elena, were known to you through your brother. As if he vetted these women for your benefit. And while I really want to explore that some time soon, I want to start working on you and how well you can take care of yourself and your significant other in a relationship. I'd like you to work with a sex surrogate."

Damon got stuck. He does that a lot now. Getting stuck on things Brikham says, and in turn getting stuck on his own thoughts, analyzing, looking closely at himself.

Being self-aware is a bitch.

"Wait you want me to work with a sex surrogate. Isn't that for dudes who can't get it up. My dick's not broken."

"Physically, I have no doubt that you are a healthy man. But there is dysfunction there. If you didn't think that as well, then I don't think you would continue with our sessions. But you do. I want you to have blanket slate. Start from scratch with authentic feelings. Work at establishing healthy relationship behaviors. There is an information session this Friday, 7 pm. Then you will be required to take a sexual education course, which is less about birds and bees and more about arming you on information about your body and your prospective partner's body. Finally, after some psychoeducation, a surrogate will be selected."

"Do I get a say? I mean do I get to sample the goods before I pick?" Damon's gaze roved around, not looking at Brikham directly. Probably looking for an escape route.

"Are there some specific things you would like?" Birkham asked out of politeness. This wasn't a dating service.

Damon thought a moment. "No," shaking his head, gulping, "I trust you."

Brikham smiled.

* * *

Damon hated this café. He hated the people sitting ad sipping their coffee, their tea. He hated the chairs. He hated the tables. He hated the windows that seemed to have a weird tan tent, as if to exude warmness.

It's a crock of shit.

He had a breakdown yesterday. (If he were to be real honest, it's been every day since starting this surrogacy process).

He drank. He drank anything and everything. He hates vodka but he drank that too. He drank to forget. He drank to remember. He drank himself to sleep.

Stefan didn't say anything. Just followed him over the deep end. Glass after glass. Two points in a distance. From table to mouth, the glass traveled. And good ol' Stefan. Refilling Damon's glass and his own.

Damon's sure he doesn't look his best. Everyone has been giving them looks at work. It's not every day that a CEO and COO come in to work, obviously plastered or recovering from a bender. In Stefan's defense, he looked marginally better. A Chief Operating Officer has to look like his not sloshed when vising the construction sites.

Damon settled his sunglasses firmly on top of his nose, making sure his eyes were completely shielded from sunlight.

"Is this seat taken?"

Damon followed the voice. He followed the voice from the slender fingers griping the chair. He followed the voice past the thin knit sweater. Peach. He thinks the color is peach. Not something bland, like beige. He followed the voice to the elegant neck sitting on top of straight shoulders. He followed all the way to her face, little crooked smile on lips he wanted to kiss.

He followed all the way.

He said something he is sure because she sat down in the chair opposite of him. She smiled. She said her name was Bonnie. She said put her fingers to cheek, demure, tiny fingernails touching rich skin.

She laughed at him or with him, he is not sure.

She touched his hand, the outside of it, grazing the knuckles. She touched his forearm and his shoulder. Right back to his hand. And he feels like he is melting.

He hated tea but he ordered it and she sent it back because he kept grimacing.

She said she reads books all day. That's her other job. She worked for a publishing house. She didn't say where. Damon didn't ask.

He told her about the Salvatore baby, the company. SCS. He told her about _Forbes_ magazine. He told her about his brother. He told her about his traumatic experience with pickles. She didn't laugh. She said, "poor baby," rubbing his hand.

She drank three cups of tea. Raspberry. Honey. No sugar.

He said something about her having to pee later. She proclaimed, "they're tiny, little cups."

She asked if he liked his coffee better than the tea. He wanted rub her shoulder, so he did. He wanted to kiss her already but he didn't.

It was just coffee and he feels like every word out of her mouth changes his life.

* * *

 **Author(s) Note:** Quote in the beginning of chapter from article " _What I learned from a male sex surrogate_ " by Rosie Garelick.

* * *

 **References To** **:**

Kings Dominion is an amusement Park located in Doswell, VA

The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing (1962)

Marriage between Angelina Jolie (now Jolie-Pitt) and Billy Bob Thornton. One word. Google.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** **:** I would like to thank the following people for reviewing the first chapter: Queen Of TheGalaxy, wishes2mind, 1, voicegrl, Jenny Cici G, and bamonfangirl. You guys were the first few to take the time to write a review. Thank you. To the other people who left a review. Your comments mean the world to me.

Regarding the writing style of the last section of the first chapter, from Damon's perspective, the first meeting was a blur. He was too nervous to retain much from the first meeting with Bonnie. His memory of it is comprised of snapshots, and that was what I was trying to convey with the quick, disjointed writing.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER TWO**_

 _The Excitement Stage_

Damon was not above lying to his therapist. Hell, he's lied to himself many times over.

"How was the first meeting?" Brikham asked, a tentative smile on her face.

Something between a smile and a grimace stretched Damon's visage, "It was okay. Nothing special. I meet girls all the time."

Brikham raised an eyebrow. She never knew her face could be so reactive, but having Damon as a client was proving to be useful in exercising her facial muscles. It wasn't that his life was any more outrageous or difficult than any of her other clients in all of her 23 years of practice. He seems to have all of the tools to manage his overall wellbeing, and he just…doesn't.

"Bonnie seemed to think it went better than okay, "Brikham replied. Brikham lifted up a sheet of paper and seemed to study the words carefully. "In Bonnie's report, she noted your nervousness. You seemed to be at ease when she touched you or made some physical contact with you, but you would still display signs of anxiousness. At one point, there was at least twenty minutes before you made direct eye contact with her."

After reading the notes, Brikham lowered the paper on her lap and looked up at Damon expectantly, patiently waiting for a response.

Damon stopped and started. He tried valiantly to make sure the next words out of his mouth were carried with his usual manly pitch, and not that of a thirteen-year-old going through puberty. "She told you about our…session?"

Brikham nodded, a bit puzzled as to Damon's reaction.

"All surrogates write a report of each session they have with a client. We informed you of this during the orientation."

Damon swallowed. He forgot. He forgot that Bonnie wasn't a real girl. Oh, she was a woman all right, but not his woman. With Damon's luck, he was probably one out of a dozen "clients" that Bonnie had.

"Yeah. I forgot about that," Damon answered truthfully enough.

"You seemed bothered by that fact," Brikham observed.

Damon made a show of looking at his watch. 'Well, would you look at the time. I gotta get back to work."

Brikham did not protest. There were fifteen minutes left in the session. She knew. And she knew Damon knew it too.

"We can certainly stop now if you like. I'll leave you with this: whatever you are feeling, it's perfectly natural."

* * *

Damon has had a terrible habit of going too fast for the women in his life. His mother would always tell him to stop running through the house when he was a child, afraid that he would hurt himself. He learned his lesson when his seven-year old body fell head first down a flight of stairs because he didn't stop himself quick enough.

His mother cried all over his armed, plastered from fingers to shoulder. His father didn't even bother to leave work for the occasion. Stefan used his arm as a teething instrument, gumming the orthopedic cast like his life depended on it.

In second grade, Damon gave Lucy Sitwell a chocolate heart every day for a week. It ended after her parents' threatened him with a restraining order. He was reasonably sure he was too young, but his father didn't want the embarrassment.

At sixteen, he broken into his girlfriend's house because she wasn't returning his calls. Her mother went through with the threat of a restraining order. His juvenile records were sealed, thank you very much.

He moved into Elena's apartment fourteen hours after she and Stefan had broken their engagement.

Damon moved way too fast.

But that didn't account for him behaving like a nerd who has never seen a girl before. Seriously. He could hear his father calling him a loser right now.

Actually it was Stefan's voice, "Hey loser, are you ready or what?"

Damon blinked as Stefan's hand moved rapidly in front of his face, attempting to bring Damon out of his reverie.

The Salvatore brothers were on their way to one of the many galas Mystic Falls' mayor, Klaus Mikaelson threw, continuing the horrid tradition of raising money for a town whose combined AIG gave Donald Trump a literal run for his money. There were working class, sure. But more and more the town was divided into four categories: really rich, sort of rich, lower middle class, and really poor.

Miklaelson was really rich. He was also the newest novelty of Mystic Falls: He was unmarried, had no children and hadn't the stench of scandal about him like their former mayor Todd Stevens (two words: Male Hooker).

"Where did you go right now?" Stefan asked, concern marring his features.

"Just thinking about mom and dad." Damon replied.

Stefan nodded like he understood, his jaw ticking. He placed his hands on Damon's bowtie, straightening it. "Mom hated these things," Stefan commiserated.

"And dad reveled in it, "Damon added.

"Remember that one time mom made dad stop at Carvel and you got ice cream on your dress shirt. Dad was furious."

Damon smiled at the memory, "And mom said, at least he has something to talk about at this stupid thing."

The brother's chuckled, the memory creating pure mirth. Damon's eyes crinkled at the corner's. Stefan's cheeks dimpled just a bit.

Stefan sobered. He willed himself to say what he knows he should say before he loses courage. "Mom would be proud of you, you know."

Damon searched his brother's eyes, and retorted, "She would be proud of both of us."

* * *

Bonnie was about a third of the way into a manuscript about a boy primed to take over his father's kingdom. _King_ was the title. Bonnie would bet her entire paycheck that the publishing company will change the it, however aptly named.

She reclined on the one piece of furniture she chose to indulge in when she moved into her grandmother's home.

Lindy sofa, cornflower blue. Bonnie coughs every time she thinks about the price, her bank account choking her from its electronic prison.

Her grandmother her passed away three years ago, leaving Bonnie her home in her will. Bonnie was always close to her grandmother, and regarded her as one of the strongest women she knew.

Sheila Bennet taught Bonnie everything, like how to cook, dance and sew. Bonnie learned some dishes didn't rely on the science of teaspoons and pinches, but were as flavorful as can be with just the right amount of heart and soul. She learned to count a second behind the beat, and let your partner think he's leading when he's not. She learned how to sew the perfect sweater seam on a cable knit that even the dry cleaners were afraid to touch.

While her father was working, Sheila was there. While her mother was off trying find herself, her grams was there. And now she was there again, making sure Bonnie had a place to live when she moved out of her childhood home to set out on her own.

Bonnie stretched, her sweatshirt riding up in the middle, inevitably creating a chasm between her shirt and her jeans, her brown skin peeking out.

She thought of her other job. She thought about Damon Salvatore. She only met him once but she could tell already that she would have to be careful with him. He seemed fragile, his heart too close to his skin. There were flashes of his arrogance, of course. His smile. His 'come get me' wink. His 'I don't give a shit' attitude. He was a bit of a child that way. Like how boys stick out their scrawny chest at the first sign of muscle.

Bonnie was superficially aware that he was ridiculously handsome. Although a few years older, he was closer to her in age then her other clients have been. And he was single, which was a welcome change from the married clients or those who had a significant other.

In many ways, it was easier working with a client who had a significant other. There was more of a direct goal, especially since Bonnie's work was much more comprised of talking and psychoeducation, than physical sex. Premature ejaculation? Okay, let's work on stamina. Can't have sex with the lights on to the point where it's pathological? Okay, let's work on body positivity, and believing your partner when he or she says they love your body. Frigid? Nope. You can have multiple orgasms, my dear. Helping an asexual husband foster closeness and intimacy with his wife. Piece of chocolate cake.

When Bonnie first spoke to her parents about becoming a sex surrogate, or an intimacy coach, as she likes to refer to herself as, the vein in her father's forehead pounded, along with his fist on the dining room table. Bonnie never heard her father raise his voice before until that day. Bonnie's mother was more reasonable, with her wheat germ and belly tattoos. Abby was just glad her daughter felt strongly enough to discuss such a daring career choice.

Bonnie yawned. She opened her copy of _Human Sexual Response_ , and reacquainted herself with _sensate focusing_ , a technique developed by William H. Masters and Virginia E. Johnson. While _sensate focusing_ had many aspects, the main objective of the technique was to open up sensual pathways beyond the traditional sexual parts of the body.

Bonnie definitely wanted Damon to think outside of his penis. She had a feeling he fell on that sword a little too often.

* * *

The first meeting at a rinky dinky café had some charm. This clinic that he and Bonnie were currently in, not so much.

Bonnie gazed at Damon, curbing the urge to rub his arm. "Are you nervous? It's okay if you are. I'll start slowly. If there is any place that you feel uncomfortable with me touching, we can stop and talk about it," she assured.

Damon's eyes bugged. He found it funny that Bonnie spoke to him like he was a child, explaining about 'no-no' places on his body.

He smirked, something vulgar on the tip of his tongue. He then rubbed his hands together and thought the better of it. "I'm ready when you are sweetheart," Safe but flirty.

Bonnie's eyes flinted between the distances of Damon's eyes and his chest. She was unsettled by his smile, as plastic as can be. The syrupiness with which he called her 'sweetheart,' making a mockery of the word, made her sad.

The therapy clinic was housed in a new building, courtesy of [cough] Salvatore Construction[cough], fitted out with startling bright lights and sterile looking furniture. Fortunately, the Sex Partner Therapy (SPT) rooms of the clinic were design by a person who had some inkling that a hospital bed wasn't sexy.

The walls were a muted peach, conservative enough to be professional, but inviting to whomever was in the room. Wide windows, mauve curtains draped in front, obscuring the view of voyeurs who may journey by the clinic. A throw rug, a tall lamp, a sofa and a loveseat. Damon supposed it was cozy.

Bonnie leaned into his personal space, framing his face with her hands, inadvertently forcing him to look at her.

"If it is okay with you, I am going to touch you. I am going to touch you everywhere. And you can touch me too. I want you to think of this as us exploring each other's body without the worry of hooking up. In fact, I won't touch you anywhere really provocative." Bonnie stated, whispering the last word with an air of conspicuity.

"So…it's not a sex thing." Damon affirmed, boredom creeping into his voice. He thought having a sex surrogate was going to be entertaining.

Instead of responding, Bonnie traced Damon's left ear with one finger, flicking when she got to his earlobe. Damon took that as a signal to shut up.

He hesitated before placing his hands on her delicate shoulders, griping her like a buddy. Bonnie smiled, a light, meaningful thing exposing her white teeth. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, too. She smoothed the black Henley over the muscles there, marveling over the apparent strength; the softness of his shirt, the fact that she was wearing a Henley of her own, just as soft but in white.

Damon's breath stuttered. He's been touched before. Many, many, many times. But God, she was beautiful. Not just her face or body. Her entire being seemed something fantastically optimistic as if she never had a hard day. Or more realistically, she never let a hard day get her down. How wonderful must that be? To be so comfortable in one's own skin.

Damon wanted to ask so many questions, but he held his tongue. He focused on the hands rubbing his back, circular, kneading his muscles.

It is only when Bonnie rested her face against her neck, her lips dangerously close to his skin, that Damon realized that he should definitely participate.

He folded her into a hug, his arms tight around her. He gripped her shoulder blades. He ran his nails down the line in the middle of her back, right along her spine. He inhaled her perfume and nudged his nose against her hair. Bonnie gripped the nape of his neck, grazing the hairs there.

Damon moved her until she was straddled on his lap. He moved his face lower, pressing his lips along the curve of her breast, the cotton barrier of the t-shirt supple against his mouth. Not quite a kiss, but something softer.

Damon lifted Bonnie's shirt to run his hands on her bare skin. She responded by pushing Damon away, putting space between their bodies. He thought he did something wrong then.

Bonnie smiled her sweet smile. She ran her hands over his chest and stomach, soothing him like a wild horse.

They spent what amount to two hours just touching.

Just breathing.

Just being.

* * *

"Where do you live?"

Damon walked out of the clinic after the session feeling lighter than he ever did in the past few years. He thought he would have missed Bonnie leaving as well.

Bonnie cursed. She had hoped she would miss him on her way out. She wanted to avoid what usually follows in this kind of situation.

Damon didn't wait for Bonnie to answer. He stopped in front of her, some wind that had kicked up late in the afternoon blowing his hair. "I can give you a ride. Do you live close?" Damon asked, staring down at Bonnie.

"I have my own car. Thanks. "

"Okay. I'll walk you to it. Where are you parked?" Damon plowed on.

Bonnie took a few seconds to think carefully before answering. "Why don't I walk you to yours?"

Damon smirked, a lightbulb turning on in his head. "You don't want me to see what your car looks like."

Bonnie opted for honesty. "Yeah. Or get my license plates."

"Is this some weird thing where you have to be anonymous or something?" Damon asked, squinting.

"Or something. And it's not about being anonymous. It's more like ethics. We are in therapy. You are my client."

"What is your last name?" Damon responded, changing the topic of conversation.

Bonnie sighed, rubbing her hand through her hair. "You know I can't tell you that, Damon."

He averted his stare at her answer. An expression of annoyance flashed on his countenance before it was replaced with indifference. "What can you tell me?"

Bonnie quickly assessed that Damon would stand here all day until he got something out of her. "In addition to being an intimacy coach, I work for a publishing company. But you already know that. I love tea. You know that too. I love macaroni and cheese. Casserole style, with chunks of cheese, not that orange, runny crap in the blue box. I like to swing dance. My favorite color is blue. Any kind of blue. I have no pets but I love cats. I'm currently reading _All-Night Visitors_ by Clarence Major. And now I'd like to go home to prepare dinner and take a nice long bath."

Bonnie paused in her soliloquy. This wasn't some guy hitting on her in the street. She softened her delivery. "I would love talk to you more but I'm sure you're tired like I am. I'm…I'm just really drained actually."

Damon nodded in sympathy. He felt great himself. Like he could run a marathon. But it must take a lot of a person to give and heal and get nothing in return.

Bonnie frowned because she is usually so professional when dealing with clients. Steady. Perfect range of emotions.

"You are human so I guess being tired is expected. Can I call you?"

"What?" Bonnie stopped berating herself in favor of staring at Damon like he had grown two heads.

"Can. I. Call. You?" Damon repeated, annunciating slowly.

"Yes. You know the clinics number, right? It'll patch you through to a private line."

"Or you can just give me your number and cut out the middle man," Damon suggested.

Bonnie placed her hand on his leather jacket, patting his chest. "Call the hotline."

* * *

He waited four hours before calling her.

He crammed Stefan's chicken down his throat, only marginally aware that it wasn't dry like the last time Stefan cooked.

He downed a fingerbreadth of bourbon. (Okay. Two fingers worth).

He thought about Bonnie. He thought about her skin. Her eyes. Her lips. He thought about her everything, really.

And usually. Usually he did not believe in pacing himself. Why wait for anything, especially anything pleasurable?

He showered. He bickered good-naturedly with Stefan about the Super Bowl. He may or may not have purchased Clarence Major's bibliography off of Amazon.

"Are you busy?" Damon asked, vaguely aware that Bonnie would probably say 'yes.'

Bonnie pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder, leaving her hands free to rub lotion on her arms and legs. "No. You called at the right time. I'm just getting out of the bath."

Damon could easily pretend that this was a normal phone call. He could pretend that he didn't have to call a hotline, listen to an automated system tell him he had reached the clinic but that there was no there and he should call back during business hours.

He could pretend that he didn't punch in four numbers at the prompting of 'If you know your party's extension, please dial now.'

He could pretend that this was real.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** **:** My Goodness! Thank you all! I have been going through a bit of a rough time these past few months and decided to return to a comfort of mine, which is creative writing. I know it is stated all of the time, but I really, really appreciate the people who take the time to read and review.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER THREE**_

 _The Excitement Stage II: The Body Prepares Itself…_

"I kissed her –" Damon interrupted himself. He didn't give Brikham the chance to do it.

Brikham leaned forward. "And this was a week before the wedding." She didn't ask. She stated.

Damon looked up, as if pulling himself from his thoughts. He tried to think of a way to frame it. A way he could convey to Brikham that his need…his love…his feelings propelled him to do things.

Extreme things.

"Elena felt like the walls were closing in on her. She felt like she couldn't do anything right."

"And you wanted to assure her." Brikham provided.

"I guess." Damon grimaced. It felt wrong in his mouth, saying that. "No." Damon shook his head. "It wasn't about her. I was in love with her and I wanted her to know. "

Damon stared into Brikham's eyes, trying to decipher if he saw disgust there.

"You were in love with your brother's girlfriend."

Damon laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. That's…that's a doozy. Trust me, I know." Damon swallowed hard.

"It is definitely a difficult situation all around. I can only assume that Stefan was upset by the two of you together."

Damon frowned in thought. "Stefan was...you know. I…Can we talk about something else?"

Brikham wasted no time inquiring as to why. "It seems to me that this period in your life was very important. I don't understand why you wouldn't want to explore that. I'm right here with you."

 _The first thought Damon has is that mom will be mad. She will be so angry. Stefan has forever ruined mother's view from the newly installed French casement windows. The chair Stefan must have used to prop himself up looks as if it were kicked away. Asshole. When did it become real? The makeshift noose around your neck didn't ring home quick enough? And you panic now! You fight for life now? Asshole. If Stefan hasn't already killed himself, Damon would do it for him._

 _Asshole._

 _Damon sweats through the suit he wore to work. Canali. Fit stripe. Damon was told by the clerk that the color was blue. It looks grey to Damon. And the ridiculous pink tie. Damon sweats through his white shirt. His brother hangs from a now defunct ceiling fan and he sweats._

 _Mom will never look through the windows in this room again._

 _His brother hangs and he sweats._

Damon tears himself away from the memory. A paleness washes over his face, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Brikham rose from her seat with alarm. She grabs a waste bucket because Damon will not make it to the bathroom.

Damon feels his breakfast come up. The grainy matter coating his throat. The orange juice will have turned the food a revolting color. His stomach empties itself.

Damon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Stefan tried to kill himself. He was nineteen. I had just started to work for dad. Mom was sick. She was…she had cancer. And Stefan didn't know what to do. She made him promise not to tell anyone. Not dad. Not me. Not anyone. He couldn't handle it."

Damon felt tears prickling in his eyes. He resisted crying for so long. He talked about all kinds of shit with Brikham. He talked about his mother and father, and his fucked up love life. His childhood. His eyes were dry as a bone, then. But he felt like crying now.

"Stupid. He was so stupid. He was just so stupid. Mom shouldn't have asked him to keep something like that to himself. But Stefan was so stupid. Why would he try to kill himself? Why would he hurt mom like that, knowing what she was going through?"

Damon took a breath, finding it hard to take in air. "Why would he want to leave me?"

Brikham crouched where Damon's body was folded over the garbage can. "Why did talking about Elena trigger that memory?"

Damon scoffed as if it were obvious, tears no longer threatening to spill, but making the journey south, streaking down his face, "I thought he was going to do it again. I thought he would…"

Brikham nodded and placed her hand on his back, urging Damon to continue.

"And I still left. I moved in with Elena. I left him right there in our home. He was so hurt. He couldn't even look at me. He didn't want to talk to me. And I left. Because I loved Elena. I needed her. I wanted her. And Stefan was my brother. I did that to my brother."

* * *

Stefan followed the smell of chicken. He followed the smell of skins fried to perfection. He followed the smell of salt and pepper, and other spices filtering in the air.

He followed the smell all the way to the kitchen.

A basket, a bottle of wine, and an assortment of food littered the counter.

Damon strolled in behind Stefan. "Don't touch anything."

Stefan raised an eyebrow. "Are we going on a picnic?"

Damon tsked, "We aren't going anywhere. I, on the other hand..."

Stefan squinted suspiciously, "Are you going on a date?" Stefan waved his hand around the food and the wine, "Is this a date thing?"

Damon thought for a moment before he answered, "Yes."

Stefan's eye's widened. "You are seeing someone?"

Damon squirmed where he stood, "It's new. I'm really not going to talk about this right now."

Stefan's hands rose in surrender. "Say no more. Should I wish you good luck or…"

"Or."

* * *

Bonnie dissolved into a rousing fit of laughter. She dug her toes into the grass, lifted her face up toward to sun and wondered at the beauty of the day.

Damon smoothed his hand along her collar bone. He lifted Bonnie's hair from her ear, pressing his lips close so only she may hear. He continued with his tale of teenage rebellion.

"I trashed the car, like three ways. Fender. Rearview mirror. Windshield wipers. Everything just folded like an accordion. Have you ever seen a grown man fall on his knees crying because of a car? I lost respect for dad that day. Just a little bit."

Bonnie snorted and Damon pressed his lips to her cheek. God, he couldn't get enough of her already. Her sheer presence made him feel so many things. Chiefly among those feelings was joy.

And he hadn't even kissed her. Not on the lips, anyway.

He wanted desperately to change that.

This was their sixth session. More and more, their sessions were becoming dates. Brikham told him to embrace it. Welcome it. Learn and relearn what a relationship was about. Spending time together. Enjoying each other's company.

"I really didn't go through a rebellion stage. I was usually on my best behavior. My parents went through a period of separation. My grandmother had stepped in and you had to be on your best behavior with Shei…with my grandmother.

"Your parents separated?"

Bonnie turned to face him. "Yeah. But they are back together now. They are so different from each other. Complete opposites. But they work. Even when my mom left for a while. I was so angry. And I know dad was too. But he forgave her. He said to me, he said, 'Holding your mother again is like coming home.' I did not get it."

Bonnie stopped talking, wondering when it became the norm to share her private life with a client.

"Did you make this chicken?"

Bonnie's question gave Damon whiplash. The change of direction quick and effective. "Yeah. Sure I dd."

"Wow. I am impressed. You managed to make chicken just like Mama Reacer's famous chicken. She must have shared her recipe with you."

Damon stuttered, "What I meant was that I opened my wallet as wide as possible to buy this chicken."

Bonnie grinned, "Oh. That's what you meant."

Bonnie wrapped her arms around Damon's neck and pressed her body to Damon's as they rested on their sides.

Damon brushed her hair from her eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

Damon's never asked permission for anything in his life. Not even from his parents.

"We do kiss." Bonnie answered.

Damon hummed and ran his forefinger along Bonnie's mouth. Her lips parted, and his heart pattered faster. It felt like a heart attack. An attack on the heart.

Damon tilted his head closer, giving Bonnie time to pull away if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

It started as a press of lips. Light and gentle. He only pressed harder when she tightened her arms around his neck. He only opened wider when she made a sound. Such a declivous sound.

She ended up on her back. Her legs somehow wound around his hips.

She set her hand against his chest and pushed.

The two hours were up.

* * *

The next session seemed to set them back, at least Damon thought so.

They were back at the clinic. This time in a room with a bed. Still the same forced cozy feeling. Warm colors, and dim lighting. All safely sensual.

Damon felt jibed somehow. He wanted to ask if he done something wrong.

"Don't look at me like that." Bonnie admonished.

"Like what?" Damon asked. "How am I looking at you?"

"You are pouting like you are being punished." Bonnie responded.

She then seemed to physically brush aside his anxiety. She shook her shoulder's out and rotated her neck.

Damon thought to be worried as she looked like she was warming up for something. Probably to Damon's detriment.

"I want you to undress me. I can undress myself, and I will on other occasions but want you to do it."

Damon jumped at Bonnie's request. He gathered his form, rose off the bed as if on fire.

"Is something wrong?" Bonnie asked Damon's retreating form.

"This is…" Damon smacked his hand across his thigh in frustration then shoved his hands in his pockets as if he were mad at his jeans. "I just don't work that way. I mean, it's not even my bed. Or your bed or a fucking hotel!" Damon's voice steadily rose until he was nearly shouting.

Bonnie relaxed her posture. She softened her voice when she asked, "What do you think I am asking you to do?"

Damon turned away from her. He turned away from her carefully posed question. He turned away from her probing stare.

"Damon" Bonnie called. "You know you can talk to me. So do it. Talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you."

Damon faced her as if he were betrayed by her ignorance. His jaw ticked in anger. "I don't want this. I don't want this here. Right here. There's probably cameras around here."

"Is that it? You think we don't have privacy. I promise you it's just us." Bonnie held out her hand and hoped Damon would take it and trust her.

Damon paced. He ignored Bonnie's outstretch hand. He looked at the well placed furniture and its fraudulent advertising.

He must have decided something, had some flash of awareness.

Damon stopped in front of Bonnie. He whipped his shirt over his head, and jerked his belt away from his jeans. He kicked boots off, his thumps hooked at the sides of his jeans. The material slid down and Bonnie is only mildly surprised that he's naked underneath.

Bonnie looked up directly into his eyes. "You're angry with me." She observed

"Shouldn't I be?" Damon gazed down at Bonnie.

Bonnie touched him not even a little bit gentle. He grew hard in her hands and he forgot the point he was supposed to make.

"We don't have to argue. I know that this is not ideal. I know you are probably confused, and a little scared even. But it's just you and me." Bonnie continued to work his length between her hands.

Damon admired Bonnies ability to multitask. As it stands he couldn't string two words together, let alone a full sentence.

He tried though. "What are you doing?" Damon's sure his voice reached a pitch he hasn't seen since he heard since he found his first hair on his chest.

"I'm touching you. And you can touch me too. But you wanted to argue because something wasn't to your liking. "

Damon stopped her hand because he was too close already. "Okay. I give." He reached for her shirt and the cotton doesn't make it far over her head before she stopped him, "It's not about me winning. There doesn't have to be some contrived drama for us to enjoy each other's bodies. Do I think you would prefer to hook up somewhere else? Sure. Do I think it's enough to stop you from having sex? No. Everything doesn't have to be a struggle. You don't have to fight me or fight for me, for that matter."

Bonnie took her own shirt off. She placed Damon's hands on her tights and he got with the program, peeling them down her legs and off.

* * *

Damon jerked off twice when he got home. He felt like a teenager. Like some dumb, horny teenager. He was aware that this may become a problem.

They didn't have sex. Well, they didn't have intercourse. But it was so hot. It was like out of some weird fantasy. And the best part was that it didn't feel illicit. Damon didn't feel like he was burning any bridges or screwing over the rest of the world by…screwing.

It was totally and completely normal (apart from his panic attack in the beginning).

Damon debated calling her just to hear her voice. No, he didn't want phone sex from her. He was sated. He just wanted to talked to her. He wanted to let her know that she fixed his penis that he didn't even know it was broken.

He was in so much trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note** **:** My muse really won't let go of exploring things from Damon's point of view but I do want to explore Bonnie's POV at some point. Thank you all for the insightful reviews. Happy Reading!

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER FOUR**_

 _The Plateau Stage:_ _Prolonged time in this phase without progression may result in frustration…_

"You seem to be in lighter spirits this week." Brikham observed.

Damon fiddled with his tie to give himself something to do with his hands. "Yeah. I mean, I feel okay." Damon acknowledged.

"That's good. I wanted to talk to you about perhaps getting your brother here for the next few sessions. I believe we have four left and I would like for Stefan to be present for the next two if that is okay with you?" Brikham inquired.

"Stefan would be ecstatic, I'm sure," Damon allowed. Stefan had been seeing his own therapist for a number of years.

"Great. Your sessions with Bonnie seem to be going well." Brikham left it at that. Open-ended. She didn't want Damon to feel pressure to respond.

"It's fine. It's good, I guess. We're communicating or whatever. She probably is doing this with like a billion guys right now." Damon moved around in his seat like he there are ants crawling over him. A shifty body to go along with his shifty language.

Brikham placed her pen against her lips, starting to respond but thought the better of it. She collected herself before asking, "Is that something that worries you?"

Damon barked out a noise that was a mixture of a laugh and a groan. He knew that Brikham was scrutinizing his every reaction and he couldn't bring himself to say anything that would look like the lie it was.

"I'm just really confused. You wanted me to do this. You wanted me to 'date' some stranger because it was supposed to fix whatever the hell you think is wrong with me. And how exactly am I supposed to be okay with Bonnie seeing these other guys?"

"So you feel that Bonnie is 'seeing' other people. You are upset by that."

Damon's eyes narrowed, "Is this what we are doing now? You're going to act like a damned parrot and repeat the same thing I've said already."

Brikham kept her voice calm, "Nothing like that. For my own clarification, I wanted to make sure that I understood what you were saying, and although you didn't verbalize a specific emotion, I wanted to make sure that the demeanor I was reading as angry, was in fact anger. This is about you, Damon. But I am also in the room with you. I want to make sure that what I am hearing and seeing is what you are intending for me to hear and see."

Damon balked under the chastisement. He stood up from the leather couch he was sitting on. He gazed out of the one tall window in the room. "Why don't we meet in the clinic?"

Brikham didn't do a double take at the change in conversation. "I and my partner have our own practice. We are close to the clinic though. And of course, you know that we are affiliated with them. I'd like for us to talk about your concern with Bonnie. "

Damon sighed. He didn't want to talk. He knew he brought it up. His big mouth was the reason he has to look out of a window instead looking at Brikham.

Brikham allowed Damon a reprieve. "Okay. You don't want to talk about that. Can we talk about your expectations regarding your sex surrogate? It is my understanding that you have been intimate."

Damon turned sharply from the window. He looked pained. There was no other way to describe it.

"Do we have to talk about this? Seriously, I just…I'm not very talkative today."

Brikham nodded as if in agreement. Her next comment, however, challenged Damon's previous statement, "You seemed to want to talk about something in particular earlier. And maybe you thought it was silly. Or you thought that I would disapprove somehow so you shut down and changed the subject."

Damon seemed flustered at Brikham's remarks. "No you don't get to do that." He advance from where he was standing and pointed a finger at a still sitting Brikham. "You don't get to make this my fault."

Brikham was more confused than intimidated. "If you could perhaps tell me why you are upset, I can stop adding to the fire." Brikham thought the better after making such a promise, and quickly tacked on, "Well, as much as I can manage anyway."

Damon adjusted his tie. He picked up his suit jacket and put it on, shrugging the material over his shoulders.

Without another word, or an even a glance, He left Brikham's office.

* * *

"Can you please pull up the sleeve of your shirt?" The nurse was greying at the temples. Her healthy girth was encased in Winnie the Poo scrubs. The rubber of her crocs squeaked, even as she stood still.

"Is this necessary? I'm clean. I gave a sample last week." Damon hated this part of Surrogate Partner Therapy. He didn't mind the idea of STDs/STIs testing all that much, but it wasn't like he and Bonnie were hitting the sack on a regular basis.

Besides the one session, which pretty much amounted to he and Bonnie jacking each other off, they hadn't done anything else remotely sexual.

All they did was talk about his _feelings_. But the clinic kept taking his blood regardless.

Assholes.

Damon rolled up his dress shirt, and managed not to grimace when the nurse stuck the needle in the skin of his arm. He tried to ignore the look of glee on the nurse's face.

* * *

"Can we just...I don't know. Can we just enjoy this? Damon knew he was whining.

Bonnie flipped her hair out of her eyes. She squinted a little, because as far as she was concerned, therapy wasn't always something to enjoy. Holding a microscope to a specific area of your life with the explicit command to 'fix it' was never easy.

Bonnie picked this cozy little Bar & Grill. 'Mystic' sign blazed on the front of the establishment. The 'Y' dull and grey with a blown bulb.

"You seemed restless. I thought it would be a good idea for our last meeting to be outside of the clinic. The last thing I want you to do is undo all that hard work."

Damon's face was a mask of incredulity, "What hard work? I'll I've done is hung out with you and talk to Brikham."

Bonnie pretended to think hard before answering, "Let me see. Hmmm. You were able to hold a romantic-focused connection with someone who didn't know your brother. Never knew him. Never had to meet him. Never needed that point of reference to get to know you. You were able to have sexual contact with someone without the guilt of having to explain to your brother how you ended up with his girlfriend or fiancé. With Brikham, you were able to take a look at your childhood and upbringing, including the relationship you had with friends and family members. I don't know. I would say that you are ready to find a woman to form a healthy relationship with."

If Bonnie could pat herself on the back for her concise review of Damon's growth, she would. She just might carry through with that once Damon left. It would be weird to do it in front on him.

"How many other guys are you seeing?" Damon blurts out. He breaks eye contact with Bonnie and hoped valiantly that those words didn't just tumble out of his mouth.

Bonnie sputtered, "W-what? What are you talking about?"

"Well for one, you're dumping me for your other 'clients'. Two: You're. Dumping. Me. In a horrible restaurant, I might add. They water down their drinks!"

Bonnie blinked slowly. "One: You and I aren't dating. I am your surrogate partner. It is conceivable that I am like a pretend girlfriend, but 'pretend' is the operative word here. Two: I don't date clients. I would never date a client. So even if I happen to have more than one person on my caseload, which I actually don't at this time, I wouldn't be 'seeing' them. "

Bonnie paused. She placed both hands on Damon's left hand, hoping to soften the blow that were her next words. "Damon, you are a wonderful guy. And I think you thought you had to compete with everyone, including your brother. And you don't have to. It is time for you to seek emotional and sexual satisfaction outside of what we've done. Okay?"

Damon swallowed. Hard. His Adam's apple bounced as he tried to force his saliva down.

Twelve.

He has seen her twelve times, including now. He only got three months of her smile, her lips, her eyes. That wasn't nearly long enough.

"But I'm in love with you." Damon protested.

Bonnie laughed long and loud, her nose scrunching and something suspiciously like a snort quiffing out.

"You are _so_ not in love with me. But you will find someone to be in love with. "

* * *

 **ONE YEAR LATER**

Matt Donovan kicked snow off of his Prada Deco Medallion cap toe Oxfords. He raised a cigarette to his mouth and pulled, the end lighting up bright orange.

He hated Virginia. He hated the town. He hated the people. Well, there were a few people he liked but everyone else could go to hell.

"Have you been waiting long?" Stefan stepped up behind Matt, his own expensive shoes shuffling in the snow.

"No not really." Matt flashed a bright smile. He wrapped a arm around Stefan's shoulder, patting his back in a half hug. Stefan used both of his arms to hug Matt, his hands reaching up to ruffle Matt's blonde hair.

"Where's Damon?" Matt inquired, squinting as the pull from his cigarette caused smoke to rise in his eyes.

"He's waiting at the restaurant already." Stefan replied.

The two began walking toward the direction of said restaurant. Their shoes squishing in the slush, the already fair hair on each of their heads dotted with spots of big white snowflakes. They refused to wear hats.

"How's the company?" Matt asked casually as they walked.

"You're going to pretend we weren't in _Forbes_ again this year."

Matt laughed, a slick sound that boast new money. "And you're going to pretend that I wasn't featured either?"

Stefan smirked. "How is the gaming business anyway? Still playing with yourself?"

Matt nearly choked, "Asshole. I have a copy of _Manifest Destiny 4_. Tyler and I have finally worked out all the kinks. You and Damon get a taste before it hits the market."

Stefan grinned, elated at the prospect of getting his hands on the new game before anyone has gotten the chance. "Damon's gonna shit himself. "

"Don't pretend you don't want any of this," Matt replies.

Stefan stopped and stared at his friend. "I'm the chomping at the bit. But I can exercise patience – "

"Which is something Damon's never been able to do. "Matt finished for Stefan.

"No. He's great now. I'm mean, he has his flashes of impulse but who doesn't?"

Matt nodded, serious as they continued walking. "I'm going to need him to be. I got something really big to share with you guys."

When they got to the restaurant, Damon had already order a round of drinks. His tie was loosened, coat off and sleeves rolled up. Snow was melting in his hair.

He stood up when he saw Matt and Stefan enter the restaurant, starting toward the table behind the pretty hostess escorting them to their seats.

"Here's your table gentleman." A lock of black hair fell across her cheek. She had a delicate Australian accent and peachy skin. All three stared at her ass when she walked away from the table.

"Good Matthew!" Damon raised a drink and threw his arms open to his friend. Matt hugged Damon, getting fresh snow all over Damon's shirt.

"I hate February." Stefan declared as he took a seat.

"I love February." Damon countered with a shark-like grin.

"Damon, are you still doing that girlfriend for every season thing? What are we up to? Winter. So, who's your Winter girl, and please tell me Stefan didn't date her first."

The Salvatore brother's laughed good-naturedly at Matt's ribbing. "Nope. I've been a good boy. I've dated a few women but nothing serious and they are well aware of it. I make no promises. But I'm not seeing anyone.

Matt directed his attention to Stefan, "What about you. You still with Caroline?"

"No man, we were over a while ago. Remember Alaric Saltzman?"

"Yeah the former NFL player who is basically an alcoholic, and had like two wives go missing. I've watch the _Dateline_ profile."

"Yeah well, he was cleared of any wrong doing." Stefan continued. "Caroline is expecting twins with him in September."

Matt whistled at the news. "Shit. She better watch her back. One wife? Okay things happen. Two wives? Nah, man. There's something not right with that dude."

"Stefan's been hovering over her. Visiting her and all," Damon added.

"I haven't been hovering. She's my ex. We happened to part on good terms. She's pregnant and I want to make sure she's good." Stefan defends.

Matt shook his head. "I don't blame you. But uh, I have some news of my own."

"You got a chick pregnant and you're having triplets." Damon guessed.

Stefan suggested, "Make her sign NDA, man."

"You make your women sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement?" Matt asked in disbelief.

"Yeah man. You gotta protect your money. And don't stick your dick in girls that look too hungry." Damon said before adding, "Or guys for that matter. You were a bit fluid in college if I recall."

Matt took a swallow of his drink before adding, "Yeah, you were pretty fluid yourself my friend. Remember that threesome you had with Rebecca and her twin Kluse, Klause, or some shit. If they couldn't touch each other than you had to touch them both."

Damon grinned like a maniac, "Damn right. You should try everything at least once."

"Wasn't it weird." Matt asked, having heard all the dirty details already but he didn't mind a refresher.

"Not at all. The key to a good threesome is organization. Everyone should know their positions, so to speak. Hey, Stefan you remember the time we took home that waitress. She sorta looked like Gabrielle Union – "

"He doesn't want to hear that." Stefan interjected.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "The hell if I don't."

Damon lead over as if to conspire with Matt, "Man she was gorgeous. And flexible. And totally down with DP, surprisingly."

"Can we focus gentleman. Matt has something to tell us, don't you Matt?" Stefan prompted.

"Yeah. Yeah." Matt responded sluggishly as if being pulled out of reverie. "Something big."

"How big?" Damon asked.

"Huge."

The corner of Damon's mouth quirked up "Huger than my – "

"Bigger than that."

"Well tell us already." Stefan chuckled.

"I'm getting married. And before you say anything, I can assure you she's perfect. She's like the most beautiful thing that ever existed. She's from here, crazily enough."

"What's her name?" Damon asked, giving Matt half of his attention as he perused the menu. He felt like having steak.

Matt plastered the most beatific smile on his face before answering, "Bonnie Bennett."

* * *

 **COMING UP** : Flashback to Damon's last few sessions with Brikham.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note** **:** I know last chapter was an OMG moment but hang in there with me as I continue to tell the story. There were a few readers that were concerned that Bonnie was not at all feeling Damon. You are right in that Bonnie is a professional and she did not have romance on the brain. Bonnie takes any role that she is giving seriously, and it was important for me not to have her fall for Damon while engaged in therapy. It is important for me to betray her in a way that shows she can distinguish between a job and real romantic feelings. Additionally, it is important for the reader to understand that her feelings for Damon will be authentic and NOT related their therapeutic relationship.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER Five**_

 _The plateau stage in females is basically a continuation of the same changes evident in the excitement stage._

"Damon, are you okay?"

Stefan's voice sounded faraway to Damon's ears. He realized how he might have looked. Pale face, blanched as if in shock. His mouth was probably hanging open.

"I-I'm okay." Damon replied, attempting to recover quickly from his surprise. Matt could not be talking about _his_ Bonnie. It had to be a coincidence, right?

Damon felt like he was choking on air. Like the oxygen in his lungs was escaping rapidly, jumping out of a sinking ship.

"I need a drink," Damon declared.

" _Are you saying that I have a drinking problem?" Damon seemed irritated at the prospect of having to deal with alcohol on top of everything else Brikham wanted to discuss._

" _Honestly, I haven't assessed you for any substance abuse issues." Brikham admitted. "We are supposed to be working on other areas of your life. However, you, yourself have stated that you tend to drink to 'forget' or to 'deal' with what is going on. I have to wonder if your drinking instead of finding another way to cope is compounding the problem, not helping it."_

Damon shook his head to get rid of the memory. He thought better of ordering a stronger drink. "Never mind. I'm just going to go to the little boy's room. Try not to burn the restaurant down while I'm gone."

Damon jumped out of his seat. He hoped that he didn't look as hurried as he felt. He wanted to walk, not run to the bathroom. He bumped into the Aussie waitress, with her dark hair and inquisitive blue eyes. Damon of old would have slipped her his number. But right now he couldn't think. Oh, what was the use in lying to himself? He could think alright, but there was only one refrain: _Please don't let it be my Bonnie. Please don't let it be my Bonnie. Please don't let it be my Bonnie._

His hands shook as he cupped water from the faucet to bring to his too red face. His skin was blotched as if he had a high temperate or a very bad blush spreading across his face and neck.

"This can't be happening." Damon whispered to his reflection in the mirror.

After what could only be described as a major freak-out, he composed himself and returned to his table, where Matt and Stefan waited with concern.

"Is everything okay?" Matt placed a comforting hand on Damon's shoulder once the dark haired man was seated.

"Yeah. I must be coming down with something." Damon replied.

"Matt was just telling me about his world wind romance." Stefan shared. "What was it? After two dates you are going to propose?"

Matt shrugged as if he didn't see an issue with it, "When you know, you know. You gotta lock things down quick. Right Damon?" Matt included him friend in on his stance.

"I guess. Although what do you really know about her?" Damon asked, wanting to come off as a concerned friend and not like he was fishing for information.

"She's hot. She has a tight little body. She knows a few languages too. She told me 'no' in like, five of them." Matt assured. "She will have to move to New York permanently, though. Mystic Falls gives me hives.

* * *

Much to Damon's chagrin, Stefan decided that it was a good idea to mark the glorious occasion of Matt Donovan setting foot back into Mystic Falls (even if it were for a woman) with a party at the Salvatore Boarding House. The original house was demolished in 1902, the owner at the time, Demetrio Salvatore, had gone crazy and burned the property down because he claimed it was haunted by spirits.

There happened to be a long line of crazy in the Salvatore family tree.

Damon was glad to have Matt in Mystic Falls, as he had missed his friend, but the news that Bonnie could be Matt's inamorata, soured the reunion for him.

He wished Matt never came. Damon spent months getting over his experience with Bonnie. Although, as Brikham would have it, it wasn't something to get over. It was something to embrace.

Granted, Damon might have embarrassed himself with declarations of love. He honestly didn't know what he was thinking to have said something like that. At the time, he was still having issues properly communicating his thoughts without sounding insane. He didn't think he loved her at the time he said that. But he really liked her and wanted to spend time with her. He also was irrationally angry at the prospect that she was seeing someone else. He even accused her of dating her clients. He knew she was offended by that, and he honestly didn't think she would do something like that but he was a mess.

He still ass a mess, quite frankly. But he is aware of his messiness and sometimes that is all it takes to makes strides to being a better person. He was not there yet. Not by a long shot.

Which was why he kept his mouth shut as a Stefan phoned several people over to their home. Damon said not a word when his younger brother managed to secure a caterer at such short notice, even ordering a custom cake with a map of Virginia on it. Damon went as far as to restock the liquor cabinet.

Why?

Because he liked Matt. He was happy to see his old friend. Even if Damon's heart was torn out of his chest and walked on by several party guest by the end of this evening.

Matt was coming over. And he promised to bring his special girl along with him.

Damon wondered if he should feign sickness now or later.

* * *

Black, plunging V-neckline, thin cross-strap detailing, open back design with mini flare dress silhouette. Bonnie knew she looked great. She was absolutely sure of it when as she was walking up the driveway to the front entrance of the Boarding House. A guest who was smoking outside stopped mid-sentence in a conversation he was having with another guest.

Yep. She looked great.

But as wonderful as she was sure she looked, she was going to kill Matt Donovan. He told her two of his hometown buddies were throwing a party for him and that he wanted her to come. It wouldn't have been a big deal if Bonnie didn't think he was up to something.

They had met in New York, actually. After becoming Public Relations Manager at Lakehouse Publishing Inc. Bonnie found herself flying everywhere and anywhere to make sure the dazzling literary talent of the publishing house didn't go off the rails. There were times that Bonnie longed for her days of as proofreader number three. Especially when someone gets wind of her being a certified sex surrogate. The amount of fake-deep literary geniuses who believed that they needed sexual healing from her was staggering.

Bonnie had gone to New York to keep tabs on Lakehouse's most lucrative writer. Karen Scholar was promoting her fourth book. She was a New Adult College Erotic Romance BDSM bestseller. Whatever the hell that category meant. The twenty-nine-year-old also had the propensity to get ridiculously drunk and find herself in some scandal or another. While promoting her second book, she got married. It only lasted for fifty-six hours. With her third book, she ended up suing Lakehouse for withholding her royalties from the first and second book. The case didn't go anywhere as it was revealed that the money was deposited into her bank account. As to why Karen had no awareness of it may be due to her tendency to withdraw money at a starling rate.

Karen had met Matt Donovan earlier in the day and had agreed to dinner. He had called her before their scheduled rendezvous to inform her that he was bringing a friend along and that she should do the same to make it a double date.

Bonnie went along as the Ugly Friend™. The night ended as well as to be expected. Karen got drunk and made out with the waiter. Matt's friend turned out to be gay, which turned into an hour long conversation as to why he was afraid to come out to Matt. Matt was amazing as he didn't care at all about his friend's sexual preference. Matt and Bonnie ended up having a great conversation about their lives and they even learned that they both were from Mystic Falls, Virginia.

They had lunch together the next day. Matt had proposed marriage. Bonnie took it as the joke that it was since Matt's eyes were plastered to the waitress' breasts as he waxed poetic about the wonderful life they could have together.

Now she was back home in Virginia, attending a party in his honor. Bonnie sure made some strange friends.

Bonnie chatted with a very pregnant blonde whose bubbly playful demeanor would change into the she-devil from hell if she saw someone she didn't like. Fortunately for Bonnie, Caroline Forbes (soon to be Saltzman) decided that she and Bonnie where meant to be best friends.

Alaric Saltzman was a little creepy. He seemed nice enough but there was something about him that sent warning signs flashing all over the place.

There were a few other people she met that seemed cool. They definitely had things to share about Matt. Blackmail material if she ever cared to use it.

Her heart stopped when she set eyes on a face she hasn't seen for a year. Damon Salvatore was just as handsome as ever, not that much time as past, but it bears stating the obvious.

Damon allowed his face show exactly what he was thinking. He let his face form into a smile, and he let the joy reach his eyes.

They moved toward each other, and in the time it took to cross the room, Bonnie pondered if she should shake his hand or give him a hug. Damon decided for her as he wrapped his arms around Bonnie. It was a good hug. Comforting and warm. Both Damon and Bonnie felt content after releasing the other from their shared embrace.

"How are you?" Damon asked. To Bonnie, the question didn't seem like a throw-away line. It felt like he generally wanted to know.

"I am good. Great actually." Bonnie responded. She extended her hand and rubbed his arm, "And how are you?"

Damon didn't answer immediately. A party guest interrupted the two by inquiring where the bathroom was. Damon answered the guest and turned his attention to Bonnie. "I'm ...I feel like if I say I'm fine, you won't believe me. I guess I wouldn't believe myself. I'm just…me. I guess. I don't think my life is horrible. I never thought my life was horrible but I think it could be better." Damon went with an honest answer. He no longer wished to build himself up and make himself that guy whose life was always a party. He didn't want to tear himself down anymore either but that took much more practice.

"That's a refreshingly truthful answer." Bonnie couldn't contain her smile. She helped herself to a drink as one of the wait staff walked by with a tray. "So you know Matt Donovan too. Why am I not surprised?"

At the mention of his friend's name, Damon's own smile dimmed a bit. "Yeah. For a long time. I dated his sister actually. The relationship didn't last long but he became a good friend to my brother and I. We actually went to Darden. He and my brother were undergrad and I was in the MBA program. Those were good times."

Damon's hands itched for a drink. He promised himself that he would lay off the alcohol tonight. He had no desire to make a fool of himself.

"Your brother. Stefan, right? How's he doing?"

" _I'm curious. What made you decide to call off your engagement?"_

 _At the question, Damon knew Brikham was headed toward dangerous waters. Damon had consented to allow Stefan to sit in on a few Damon's sessions. Stefan agreed without much fuss, and seemed interested at any rate._

 _Stefan squirmed at the question. "We weren't getting along at the time. I proposed to her and it was like, everything changed."_

" _How was your relationship with Damon?"_

 _Stefan looked at Damon before answering. "It was fine. We are really close anyway. Even when we fight, we usually don't stay mad at each other long."_

 _Brikham nodded, which wasn't a good sign because that nod usually meant she was going to ask something devastating. "What were you feeling when your brother and your former fiancé began a relationship."_

 _Stefan stared at Brikham for a moment, which was a relief to Damon. He could not handle eye contact with Stefan right now._

" _I felt…_ _mystified, honestly. Hurt. Angry. But mostly confused. I couldn't understand why._

Damon shrugged off the inconvenient memory in favor of giving Bonnie an answer. "Stefan is what all little brothers are: a pain in my ass. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Were you guys like the Three Musketeers, or something?" Bonnie joked to lighten the mood. Damon seemed a little spooked. By what, Bonnie was not quite sure.

Damon smirked before his retort, "More like the _¡Three Amigos!_ "

Bonnie laughed. She sincerely enjoyed running into Damon again. "Well if that doesn't paint an fascinating picture."

After some consideration and continued small talk, Damon opted for the direct approach. "So you must be excited for the wedding. Congratulations, by the way." Damon thought he delivered that smoothly. Not a croak in sight.

Bonnie frowned, a little line of skin bunching between her brows, "What wedding?"

Damon sounded pained as he expounded, "You and Matt. Didn't you two get engaged?"

Bonnie jumped a bit at the question. Alcohol sloshed out of her glass. "No. Wait a minute. No. There is no Matt and I. I haven't known him that long. I don't even like him like that. We are not engaged."

Damon squinted at a clearly offended Bonnie. He thought of all he was prepared to do. He envisioned stepping aside to let Matt and Bonnie live happily ever after. He would politely decline being best man, touting Stefan as the more responsible one, of course. He will totally throw the Bachelor party though. He was completely prepared for holidays in New York, where he would be forced to watch their love grow while visiting them. Forget the children they might have.

Bonnie hit Damon's chest to get his attention, "Answer me. Did he tell you that?"

Damon stared down at Bonnie wondering if it would be completely inappropriate to jump with elation.

"Bonnie. My darling. I am so glad you could make it." Matt Donovan glided over to Damon and Bonnie. He was aware that she got there over an hour ago but he had been busy. Tanya…Tola...Tina or whatever her name was, had shown him her delightful tattoo in the bathroom. He took a good thirty seconds to peruse the body art and then spent the rest of the time banging her against mesa stone bathroom tile.

Bonnie placed her hands against Matt's chest to stop him from hugging her. "Are you insane? You're running around telling people we are engaged."

Matt chuckled as if Bonnie's anger was the cutest thing he had ever seen. "Haven't you heard of positive thinking? You put something out into the universe and the universe gives it to you."

Bonnie stepped closer to Matt, invading his space, "If you don't stop putting our fictional engagement out into the universe, I will cut you."

Damon clapped his hands together to gather everyone's attention (and to divert the murderous tension). "So…who wants cake?"

* * *

 **Author's Note** **:** I may not be able to upload a new chapter next week but I will try to stay consistent. In addition, I apologize to anyone who was offended by my use of words such as "crazy" and "insane." It is not my intention to make light or mock mental illness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note** **:** Hello readers! I have been under the weather (to the point at which I had to go to the emergency room, but that is another story for another day….) However, I am recovered. So, here is a new chapter. I will also be introducing more family for Bonnie. Hopefully you all enjoy. Reviews are greatly appreciated always. Oh, and for those interested in trivia Bonnie's full name is Bonnie Sheila Bennett-Hopkins. She simplifies it by using her mother's surname. Her father isn't offended at all.

* * *

 ** _CHAPTER SIX_**

 _The plateau stage_ _is characterized by an increased circulation and heart rate in both sexes._

Bonnie stuck around after the party to help tidy up. She saw it as an opportunity to get reacquainted with Damon and to keep an eye on Matt, least he spread more horrendous rumors.

"You don't have to help," Stefan righted furniture that was askew as he marveled at Bonnie's graciousness. Many of the party goers had left already, in various states of drunkenness.

"I don't mind." Bonnie was glad she finally got to meet Damon's brother. She's heard so much about him. Bonnie didn't mind admitting that he too, was handsome and charming. Granted, in a more laidback way than Damon.

The catering company had done most of the dirty work of course: Setting up, serving and then the customary cleanup of glasses, plates, food utensils, and any clutter generated during the gathering.

Damon swooped into the living room from places unknown, Matt Donovan in tow, with an arm slung around Matt's neck, singing an old fraternity song.

"Alright. On a scale from one to ten, how drunk are you guys?"

Damon and Matt seemed to a take a minute to process Bonnie's question. "Eleven. Definitely eleven." Damon eventually answered.

Damon untangled his form from Matt, and slid past Stefan (not before tweaking his ear) to land in front of an amused Bonnie. "Hey." Damon's delivery was quieter, less boisterous then minutes before, his voice scratchy from drinking alcohol and talking loudly.

"Hey yourself." Bonnie recognized the tone of her own voice; just as intimate to match Damon's mood.

"So since I'm not a client anymore, I was wondering if you would like to be friends. Maybe hang out sometime."

"I'd like that."

Damon continued, seemingly having not heard her response, "I mean I know that there are rules and I mean, it's not like we did anything crazy when you were my surrogate."

Bonnie smiled. "I would really like for us to get to know each other too."

"And I mean, You're an adult. I'm an adult. We can all be adult about this – " Damon paused in his rambling to think back over Bonnie's agreeableness, "Wait. Did you say okay?"

Bonnie held her hand out, "Give me your phone."

Damon reached in his pocket and handed his phone to her at her command without a second thought. Bonnie located his contacts and added her full name and number. She gave Damon his phone back.

"Call me," were her parting words as she collected her purse and exited the Boardinghouse.

Damon blinked and looked at Stefan and Matt for confirmation that he was not dreaming. "Did that just happen?"

Matt snickered before countering, "If you mean that you just friend-zoned yourself. Yeah, my friend that just happened. At least I had higher aspirations for her."

Stefan rolled his eyes at Matt's thinking, "That was such a dick move by the way. Saying you two were getting married and Bonnie apparently not knowing anything about it, is creepy."

Stefan regarded his brother, "But I have to agree with Matt on this one. You should have asked outright for a date. I think it's great that you want to get to know her again. But you don't want to advertise friendship when you really want something romantic with her. Girls hate that kind of bait-n-switch."

Damon scoffed. "And when was the last time you had a girlfriend, Stef?"

Matt strolled over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. He wanted to keep the buzz going, especially when they were going to talk about feelings and shit. "Damon has a good point, man. When was the last time you banged a chick?"

Stefan grinned like a shark, the Salvatore predatory gene making itself apparent in the younger brother, "Finding a sex partner was never my problem and you know it."

It was Matt's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, I forgot. You want a forever. There is no forever, Stefan. There is just right-fucking-now. Nothing else. I thought you would have learned your lesson after the Elena debacle. How is she doing?" Matt directed the question to Damon.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't talk to her in some time." Damon responded, flushed with embarrassment.

Matt's gaze volleyed between Damon and Stefan. "She's still persona non grata around here, I take it."

Stefan sniffed sharply, as if the very idea of her caused him pain, "Let's just say I have done as much talking about her as I can handle. Damon has too, for that matter. And I'm not completely delusional. I know that there is no sure thing. But I do want someone permanent. Aren't you tired yet, Matt? Aren't you tired of being empty?"

Matt looked away from Stefan at his inquiry, seeming to focus all his energy on the drink in his hand.

* * *

"I didn't mean just friends. I mean, of course I want us to be friends. I want to go at whatever pace you want to go, but I want more."

Damon was proud of himself. He waited two whole days before calling her. He gave her some space, not wanting her to feel overwhelmed by his presence in her life again.

And he called her an appropriate hour, he thought. He really should be going over some figures for a staff meeting his has in about 5 minutes but he needed to make his intensions clear. No misunderstandings. No kicking himself for leading the relationship astray.

"I figured it's what you meant." Bonnie welcomed the call. She had been busy thinking of a way to break it to a new talent that Lakehouse was deciding not to publish her latest efforts. Not after their manuscript reader had returned the manuscript with 'WHAT?' scrawled on top of the document in big, red letters. Something about the protagonist being a human crucifix and vampire sex that burned, was weird and at times utterly unreadable.

Bonnie and the Editor in Chief of Lakehouse's Virginia office, were going to go to a nice restaurant and break it to the author gently.

Damon was a much needed distraction.

"Don't worry. I am aware that you want to get into my pants." Damon let out an undignified squawk that Bonnie pretended not to hear, quickly adding "But I appreciate the option of starting off slow and seeing where things go. So where are you planning to take me for our first date and when so that I can pencil you in?"

Damon opened and closed his mouth for what seemed like a full minute before getting with the program. "Uh, do you like opera. There's a performance of Puccini's _Madame Butterfly_. I am astoundingly sure that I can get us good seats."

Bonnie giggled, "I concur. With all that clout you have Mr. Salvatore."

Damon's closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, "Say that again."

"What?" Bonnie asked in amused confusion.

"Mr. Salvatore."

"Yeah, no. It's way too early in our relationship for phone sex. Text me the details for the opera."

Bonnie hung up before Damon could respond. He would have called back but he was late for his meeting.

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

Bonnie was awoken by a knock on her door. She would have ignored it if it hadn't been three o'clock in the morning. It had to be someone crazy or in need of help. The culprit of her disrupted sleep happened to be her brother, Rick.

Rick Bennett-Hopkins lifted an eyebrow in confusion. The twenty-one-year-old had no concept of suitability. "Were you asleep?"

He didn't wait for his sister's response. He brushed past her, walking into what used to be his grandmother's home. "After all this time, I still can't believe she left this place to you."

Rick was certainly his mother's son. While Bonnie was more sensible like their father Rudy, Rick took after Abby's inhibited streak. From dying his hair, to getting (then removing) several piercings, Rick was the wild child. He had a large tattoo of an eagle on his back to prove it. In his defense, he was drunk when he got it.

"Well she wasn't going to leave it to you. It would have burned down the day after you moved in."

Rick opened his mouth, affronted at his sister lack of faith in him, "Hey, I'm responsible."

Bonnie sighed and rose her fingers to her temples to rub the tension away. She loved her brother but he gave her a headache.

"Whatever you say, Rick. Why are you here?" Bonnie asked, all business.

"Aren't you going to inquire about my well-being?"

Bonnie gave him the once over and didn't see any blood. "You look fine. Why are you here?"

Rick dumped what appeared to be an overnight bag on the floor, and parked his form on her couch. "My roommate is a douche. I refused to sign another lease with that guy. Landlord should be posting the eviction notice around –" Rick paused to look at his watch. "8 am. He'll have 30 days to find a new home. Plenty of time."

"What about Mom and Dad? They would be happy to have their only son under their roof again."

Rick cracked-up like it was the funniest thing Bonnie ever said. "They fact that you actually said that with a straight face." Rick laughed some more, slapping his knee in hysterics.

"Har. Har. You know where the other bedroom is. But I'm warning you now, this will not be long term. And you will not bring your women here. Under any circumstance. You hook up with someone, make sure they have a place. I do not want to wake up with some girl drinking my milk in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah. You know you love me."

Bonnie rubbed her neck, wondering how someone she loved so much could cause her such stress.

* * *

Bonnie's dress was dark blue, like how the ocean looked at night. Form-fitted from strapless sweetheart neckline to waist, the blue taffeta bellowed around her lower body. She wore her hair up and out of her face.

Damon's mouth was dry. His small talk seemed flat and uninteresting, although Bonnie would beg to differ. His bow-tie felt tight around his throat. Was it too early to reach over and kiss her? He wanted to stop the car and do just that.

"I hope my brother wasn't horrible to you."

"No not at all. You forget I have a little brother myself."

"Yes, but Stefan is mature and thoughtful. I'm not even sure Rick is familiar with those terms."

"He's was fine. I'm used to the whole 'hurt my sister and you die' spiel although it has been some time. I promised to have you home before the porch lights go out."

Bonnie smacked his arm in jest, her tinkling giggles fulling up space in the car. "I hope you know that I have no intention of being home at any sort of reasonable time."

Damon steadied his hands on the wheel and took his eyes off the road, giving Bonnie a long look. "I'll hold you to that."

After valet parking, and exchanging pleasantries with upper crust townsfolk who were taking in a show at the opera house as well, Damon and Bonnie followed the usher to their seats.

Bonnie whistled upon their seating, "Nice. I hope you're not expecting a token of my appreciating for this view."

Damon grabbed the hand that wasn't holding her purse and programme, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Just you being here with me is enough."

During intermissions, Bonnie and Damon shared tales of college days, champagne making their lips loose.

He placed a comforting hand on the nape of Bonnie's neck during Act II, her eyes watering during "Un Bel Di Vedremo," as the soprano's voice soared.

He drove her around after the opera ended, given her control of the stereo. "I don't let just anyone touch my car. You should feel honored."

"I do. I do, believe me." Bonnie stopped talking as Bryan Ferry's voice filled the car. " _Tell her I'll be waiting/ In the usual place/ With the tired and weary/And there's no escape/To need a women/You've got to know/ How the strong get weak/And the rich get poor."_

Damon could relate.

* * *

Damon escorted Bonnie to her door, noting that it was dark inside, no lights shining through the windows.

"I had a wonderful time," Bonnie stated, smiling at Damon, her face tilted up.

"Does this mean I get a good night kiss?" Damon surmised.

"I actually don't kiss on the first date. I'm old fashion I guess."

"Huh. That's…huh. Do I shake your hand then?"

"A hand shake would be great." Bonnie extended her hand waiting for Damon to return the gesture.

Damon nodded good-naturedly as he shook her hand. Bonnie lost her straight-faced composure as Damon pulled her forward.

He lowered his head, stopping just shy of his target. "In case you didn't know, I am going to kiss you n–"

Bonnie interrupted his words, pressing her lips to him. Damon felt his heart beating in his chest at the touch of her mouth on his. He sipped at her lips, letting the air she was holding exhale. He pressed his lips tighter to her, running his tongue against the seam of her mouth, begging for entrance. Her lips parted and Damon was convinced that this was what heaven tasted like.

And they stood there for long moments. Arms around each other, tongues twining together at leisure.

* * *

Damon hummed. He hummed as he drove home. He hummed as he parked his car in the garage. He home as he let himself into his home.

"Good date?" Stefan called out as he spied Damon's passing form. Stefan reclined on his bed, a book opened in his hands, much preferring paper to electronic devices when reading a good novel.

Damon appeared in the doorway to his brother's bedroom, "The best," he answered.

"You seem happy."

Damon had to agree, "I am."

* * *

 **References** **:**

Giacomo Puccini's _Madama_ (or _Madame_ ) _Butterfly_

"Slave to Love" written and performed by Bryan Ferry (1985)

* * *

 **Casting Note** **:**

Rick looks like actor Robert Ri'chard. I was never happy with JP & Co making him her love interest as Jaime. I would have preferred they explore a family bond between them instead. No shade at anyone who liked his character with Bonnie's, but they are brother and sister in this story.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note** **:** Gold Star to isawyouasaperson. As always, reviews are much loved and appreciated.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER SEVEN**_

 _The plateau stage_ _is characterized by further increased muscle tension._

"Who is he, and why does he have you smiling like an idiot?"

Bonnie sat across from her cousin, Sabrina Washington in the crowded restaurant Melanie's. Sabrina, daughter of Rachel Hopkins and William Washington, was a Penn State Dickinson Law graduate, with an impeccable sense of style and flawless brown skin. She passed the Bar Exam on her first try. She had spent six months in Lagos, Nigeria. Three months in Lima, Peru. Two months in Holland. One month in Beijing. She can speak seven languages apart from English: Spanish, French, German, Mandarin, Italian, Russian and Farsi.

Sabrina was also neurotic, repressed, and prone to living vicariously through Bonnie's 'simple' life.

"How is Aunt Rachel?"

Sabrina's eyes widened at Bonnie evading her line of questioning. She picked up a piece of chicken that was languishing in her Caesar salad, and popped the perfectly seasoned morsel into her mouth with all the grace of a swan.

"Avoiding the question by asking another question? How original. By your non answer I can assume one of two things. One: It's a new relationship. Or two: You don't know how you feel about him yet."

Bonnie had to sense not to have a full mouth while her cousin dissected her love life. She took measured sips on her drink so there was nothing to sputter out when her cousin hit the nail on the head.

"It is new. But I wouldn't say I don't know how I feel about him. I like him. I actually happen to like him a lot."

Sabrina nods as if she understood, "But something is wrong with him. Is he not too bright? Does he lack a sense of humor?" Sabrina placed a comforting hand on Bonnie's wrist and whispered, "Does he have a small dick? There are ways around that, you know."

Bonnie laughed raucously, her sounds drawing attention from the other patrons seated near their table. "It's nothing like that. At all."

"Then what is it?"

Bonnie frowned, not sure if she should share that she knew him when she was a practicing Intimacy Coach. "It's just…I know that he has had a difficult romantic life in the past. I mean who hasn't, right? But I don't want to hold anything against him. And I sort of wish I didn't know his history."

"But then you would be going in blind. Look, I get it. One could say the mystery is gone. But you should think of it as having an advantage. Knowing all there is to know about a person and learning new things along the way make for a meaningful relationship. Or so I'm told."

Bonnie smiled, "You do have a point. I just don't want this to fail, you know. I really do like him."

"That's great, cuz. I didn't think you would get over 'he who shall remain nameless.'"

Bonnie smacked Sabrina's hand, "His name is Sean Avery. You can say it. It doesn't hurt as much." She admitted.

Sabrina paused in her next words, genuinely shocked. "You must really like this new guy if you can stand to say your ex's name. Okay, I have to know who he is. Stop holding out on me."

"I'm not holding out." Bonnie replied, goading her cousin.

"Says the lady who still hasn't produced a name. Is it some online thing? Just make sure you don't get catfished."

"Damon Salvatore." Bonnie blurted, a blush rising to her cheeks at thought of him.

"Damon Salvatore. The Damon Salvatore. Salvatore, as in Salvatore Construction. Shit man! He's loaded. Not that it means anything. But he's loaded. And gorgeous. And not some old creeper. And gorgeous. And rich. Did I mention rich?"

"Yeah. Well, most of the people in this town have some sort of money, either old or new. "

Sabrina paused in her wonderment to agree, "True. He seems to be the perfect package. Which means he's probably really messed up. God, why are the good ones damaged?" Sabrina looked heavenward, and asked sincerely for an answer from up above.

"He's not messed up. There have been some issues in the past. But he's gone to therapy. And he's seems so confident and sure of himself." Bonnie defended.

Which prompted Sabrina to ask, "And he wasn't before?"

"I'm sure Damon is an astute business. He and his brother would have to be, to be where they are now. But there were other areas in his life that he struggled with."

Sabrina leaned over, as if to share something secretly, "That settles it."

Bonnie allowed confusion to play along her face, "Settles what?"

"You must marry him. You must marry him and give Uncle Rudy and Aunt Abby lots of grandbabies."

Bonnie looked at her cousin as if she had grown two heads. "You. Are. Insane."

Sabrina beamed, "Am I? Am I really?"

* * *

So it turns out, Damon and Bonnie were both geeks.

They became aware of that fact when Damon suggests that they go to a movie on Saturday. Bonnie protested at first.

"Saturday night is so busy. There are just too many people." Of course, she related this fact while eating Kung Pao Chicken.

Bonnie brought Damon Chinese food for lunch since Damon could not get away from the office. Damon was pleasantly surprised. None of the women he had dated ever offer to feed him. Food, that is, much less visit him at work. The women he attracted where interested in his bank account, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But the women were rarely interested in the goings-on at Salvatore Construction. They didn't take an interests in him beyond the Salvatore surname.

After a taking Bonnie on brief tour, Bonnie and Damon wound up in his office eating lunch. He had promised to take her on one of the sites they were developing. Stefan had gone a bit earlier, loving the walk-throughs and the opportunity to wear a hardhat.

"We don't have to go at night. Haven't you heard of matinee?" Damon grimaced even as he said the words. Elena laughed at him when he had suggested to her. He didn't think Bonnie would do something like that, but he thought she might find it corny.

"That is definitely more my speed." Bonnie put down her boxed food and her chopsticks. She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a card that looked startlingly familiar.

Damon felt his heart speed up when he read 'Criterion Collection Member' near her name. "You're a member?" Damon asked, quietly.

"Yeah. I know, I know. But I love matinees. I love old films. Pretty silly huh?"

Damon swallowed his rice. He next movements seemed slow and deliberate as he reached into his wallet.

He held up his own membership card.

* * *

Bonnie was confronted with loud music before she even opened up her door. She regretted coming home. How horrible was that? To regret being home. She regretted leaving Damon. His warm lips. His arms around her. His snarky comments about James Dean.

The two had made good on their plans to take in a Saturday matinee. They watched _Rebel Without a Cause_ and _Splendor in the Grass_. It seemed to be a Natalie Wood marathon, which suited Bonnie just fine. She loved the actress. Damon and Bonnie even stayed for the third feature, _Love with the Proper Stranger_ , another Wood film, but this time she was paired with Steve McQueen.

Bonnie had swooned over James Dean and had been perversely attracted to Warren Beatty's aloofness, but Steve McQueen did things to her. It was his ruggedness. How strong he seemed. She enjoyed Dean's vulnerability, but McQueen looked like he could survive anything, and kiss the hell out of you while doing it.

Damon would have been jealous if he didn't comfort himself with the morbid fact that these guys were dead. Well, not Beatty, but two out of three wasn't bad.

Damon and Bonnie had gorged on hot dogs, popcorn and candy. Damon couldn't remember a time when he was so carefree. He knew his personal trainer was going to kill him but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

And after.

They had drove around Fairfax Stone Park, the grass just a pretty as anything, even at night. When Damon stopped and turned off the ignition, Bonnie slipped her lithe body in the backseat and beckoned a stunned Damon.

His mind and body quickly got with the program.

As he kissed and touched her, he started to wonder all types of things. Stupid things really. Like how he ever lived without this. Like how in the world did he get so lucky.

"Do you have protection? "Bonnie mumbled against the skin of his neck.

Damon let out a quiet chuckle, fumbling in his pants pocket, laughing with the packet slipped out of his fingers, "Why do I feel like I am fifteen again?"

Bonnie pulled away a bit to look at his face, "Is that when you lost your virginity?"

"Yep. Good old Missy Corcklin. She was our babysitter, you know."

"What?" Bonnie responded in alarm.

Damon shushed her, a finger to his own mouth, "Don't worry. I told Brikham all about it. I completely understand that Missy took advantage of me. I also understand that I shouldn't blame myself, nor glorify the relationship in any meaningful way beyond how fucked up it was." Damon regarded Bonnie, hoping to have assuaged her concern, "Have I completely ruined the moment?"

"Here I was thinking that I knew too much about you for us to work. I haven't even scratched the surface, have I?"

"Oh, there are levels to my madness. Levels upon levels."

"I'm sure. I still want you by the way. Strangely enough, I want to undo any horrible experience you may have had Mr. Salvatore. Show you the right way, between consenting adults. Why aren't you naked?"

Damon finished unbuttoning his half undone shirt, and had one request, "Please. Be gentle."

And that is how Damon and Bonnie ended up being interrupted by a park ranger who issued them a stern warning.

The ranger was even nice enough to overlook their nude bodies, or Damon's shouting about how much money the Salvatores give to preserve "this Godforsaken hellhole." Bonnie thought the park was absolutely lovely, and informed the ranger of that promptly.

Bonnie thought they were fortunate that that ranger had interrupted their second round and not their first. Damon would have probably imploded.

Bonnie contemplated turning right around and leaving her precious home to it's obvious doom now that her brother was an occupant.

She sucked air into her lungs, and let herself in. The music only seemed to get louder now that there was no barrier once the front door was opened.

"Hey sis. Doesn't this stereo sound awesome? Simonon's bass sounds like thunder, doesn't it?"

Bonnie walked over to her stereo, and looked in curiosity at her little used vinyl player. "How did you get _London Calling_ on vinyl? I hope you didn't use my credit card?"

"Why would I use your credit card?" Rick asked, exasperated that she was harshing his vibe.

A figure steps out of the kitchen, stopping any retort from the siblings. "It's my fault. I thought it would be a nice gesture." Sean Avery raised his hands in surrender, knowing how dangerous it can be, getting in the middle of a fight between Rick and Bonnie.

"Sean." Bonnie wasn't aware that she whispered the name, her eyes unmoved from the vinyl as Joe Strummer croaks ' _Won't you give me a smile?'_

Bonnie chanced a glance toward her brother, Rick, who stood quiet. Rick, who looked guilty. Rick, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Look whose here, Bon? He just dropped by, you know, to say hello." Rick feigned a yawn "I am going to go to my room now. Sort of tired." Rick regarded Sean, "Thanks for the record man."

Rick wasted nary a minute hightailing it out of the room.

"You look good Bonnie. You look really good." Sean felt it was pointless to state the obvious. Even when everything had gone bad, Bonnie always managed to look more than good.

The last time Bonnie was face to face with Sean, they were sitting in some fancy Italian restaurant. He had held her hand as he told her that he has been accepted at Sibley Memorial Hospital's Pharmacy Residency Program. She was so proud of him. She felt so much joy on his behalf. But his own smile didn't reach his eyes.

She thought that it had been the strain of the distance on their relationship. At first considerations, Washington, DC did not seem so far away from West Virginia. But five hour drives were no joke. And weekends were spent more apart than together.

He told her that they should take a break. He told her that he needed to focus. He told her that she should focus, that she should figure out what she wanted to do. Bonnie knew what she wanted to do. Too bad Sean never took anything she had done seriously.

It wasn't until a mutual friend of theirs got married. The weekend of the wedding was when Bonnie found out what Sean really meant by taking a break. Jennifer Collins was damn near perfect. With perfect peach skin and perfect blond hair. She happened to be doing a residency at Sibley as well.

Bonnie fell ill and couldn't attend the festivities. The wedding pictures came out beautiful though.

"How's Jennifer?" Bonnie didn't want to hear how good she looked or anything else from Sean. But if she must be burdened with dealing with him then she will control the conversation.

"Jen is great. We're-we just brought a new place. A fixer-upper sort of thing."

Bonnie scoffed, "What did you say when I first moved in here? How it would be a big waste of time and I should sell it and let someone else worry about it."

Sean had respect enough to look shamefaced, "I was wrong. This place looks amazing. Sheila would be really happy. This is all she wanted for you – "

"Can you not talk about my grandmother. If she were alive I doubt she would have even let you in." Bonnie brushed past Sean to head into her kitchen.

"She knew how to hold a grudge that's for sure."

Bonnie ignored Sean. She grabbed an empty glass and filled it with tap water. She was so happy just moments ago.

"Bonnie." Sean called, following her into the kitchen. "Bonnie, I know you're hurting. I know I hurt you. But you are my best friend and I don't know how to move on and live my life without having you in it somehow."

Bonnie turned her body to face Sean, her movements sharp and quick. She was angry. She was so angry that she contemplated throwing the glass in her hand. She prayed it would miss Sean entirely. She prayed it would hit him right in the face. God help her because she didn't know what to do right now.

"I can't do this with you. I can't. I don't want to. I want you to leave. I want you to go back to Washington. I want you to forget about me. Because I am trying to forget you."

Sean stepped closer to her, defiant almost. "I don't believe that. You don't forget four years."

"You seemed to. You seem to get over our four years just fine." Bonnie didn't want to cry. Not because she thought it would make her weak, but because she cried enough over Sean.

"Okay maybe it's too soon. Maybe I should have called instead. But two years is long enough don't you think? Shouldn't we move past this."

Bonnie didn't understand who this person was in front of her. "I have such deep feeling of...I don't know if it's disillusionment or disappointment or both. You ended things with me because you couldn't tell me that you found someone else. You made me think it was everything other than you wanting someone else. The distance, my work at the clinic, my work at Lakehouse. You made it seem like it was me failing to be the girlfriend you needed."

"Well were you? Were you really the girlfriend I needed? I put up with your work with Birkham, although I know a hell of a lot of guys would not want their girlfriends sleeping with other people for the sake of therapy."

"It wasn't like that!" Bonnie shouted. "It was never like that. It was never this…this thing you made it out to be. And instead of asking me, you just assumed the worst. You became angry. I've never had intercourse with any of my clients. I've barely saw half of them undressed. Most of these individual had partners already so it was mostly me demonstrating – " Bonnie cut herself off. "You know what? No. I don't have to explain myself to you. I don't have to excuse myself anymore."

"No because Bonnie Bennett is too stubborn to see someone else's pain outside of herself."

"I understood your pain when I forgave you for cheating on me. I understood your pain when I helped you with your tuition. With my money. You can berate me for a lot of things. You can even resent me for not being doormat any longer. But when you come to me now with your hand extended in friendship as if I am supposed to fall on my sword again for you, then you are wasting your time. I really don't wish you any ill will. Really, I don't. But you can't be here. Not now. Go home Sean."

* * *

"Maybe you should invite her over? We'll have a proper introduction."

Stefan sipped his beer, the dark brew creating a tingle as it went down. "This is good."

Damon smirked, "Didn't I tell you it was a good idea to invest in Mystic?"

"Actually, it was my idea." Stefan contended.

Mystic Bar & Grill had been a staple in The Falls for more than fifty years. Some variation of the neighborhood hangout had existed for all that time. Recently, the place had fallen on hard times. Matt, Stefan and Damon had decided to buy it off of the owner's hands.

Matt had called it a parting gift as he went back to New York. At least it gave him an excuse to come back to Mystic Falls more often.

The three didn't have to go into the venture together. Each could have easily acquired it on his own. But it seemed right to in together.

Stefan stood behind the bar, drinking a homegrown brew from a local brewery that he planned on using at Mystic. He knew this would go over well with the patrons.

Damon and Stefan were committing some time to renovating the place, and breathing new life into it.

"Did you look at the new grill menu yet? I don't think I'm going to be eating dinner at home anymore." Damon responded in jest.

"Nonsense. I'm sure you wouldn't mind a home cooked meal as long as you don't have to lift a finger to help. Now on to the suggestion that you so carefully avoided. Bonnie. At the Boardinghouse. Proper dinner and everything. I promise I won't embarrass you." Stefan assured.

Damon squinted before responding, "See usually, when someone sees that pretty boy grin and those twinkling eyes, they would believe you walked on water. As your big brother, I know differently. But as a sign of good faith, I will call Bonnie right now and invite her over. Thursday night sound good to you?" Damon asked as he tapped her name in his phone.

"Thursday is perfectly fine." Stefan agreed amiably.

"Good." Damon shifted his attention to Bonnie's answering voice on the end of the line, "Hey Bon." Damon greeted warming.

"Hey Damon," Bonnie responded.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked, not liking the sullen tone of her voice.

Bonnie contemplated lying and saying she was fine. But she thought the better of it. "Nothing I want to talk about right now."

"Okay. We can talk about whatever it is when you are ready. How about dinner at my place on Thursday night? My brother and I will be cooking a feast. It will totally bring you out of the funk you are in."

Bonnie laughs a bit, "That sounds wonderful. So it will be teo Salvatores and one Bennett. Maybe I should bring a Washington to even the score."

"A Washington?" Damon inquired.

"My cousin. Sabrina Washington." Bonnie explained.

"Sure bring her along. Should be fun."

"Okay. Well goodnight Damon."

"Goodnight Bonnie."

Damon hung up, already knowing that he will be calling her back to talk to her privately.

"She's bringing her cousin."

Stefan smirked, "If she's as hot as Bonnie, then I predict a delightful evening."

* * *

 **References** **:**

 _Rebel Without a Cause_ (1955)

 _Splendor in the Grass_ (1961)

 _Love with the Proper Stranger_ (1963)

 _London Calling_ (The Clash , 1979)

 **Casting Note** **:**

Sabrina Washington looks likeAja Naomi King

Sean Avery looks like Jesse Williams

Jennifer Collins looks like Margot Robbie


	8. Chapter 8

_**CHAPTER EIGHT**_

 _Sensations may be felt strongly among the lower spine, or lower back._

"Why is that pregnant lady calling your name and waving at you like a manic?" Sabrina squinted at the Blonde woman with the rounded stomach, waving frantically in their direction.

Bonnie and Sabrina thought it would be a good idea to bring something to the dinner that the Salvatore brothers were so graciously cooking for them. They decided to stop at Sadd's Wines & Spirits, to pick up Pinot Noir to go with dinner.

"If she's preggers, should she be in a liquor store?" Sabrina asked.

Bonnie resisted the urge to elbow her cousin. "That is Caroline Saltzman. She is very nice, if a little intense. Be kind, please."

"Ooh. Saltzman. She is married to that third string football player that killed all of his wives. I saw that _Dateline_ episode."

Bonnie rolled her eyes as Caroline gave up her waving and started advancing their way, knocking people aside in the process.

"He didn't kill them. They just all disappeared. And each of their dead, decaying bodies were found years later after said disappearance. Complete coincidence. "

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "There is something about this country acquitting washed-up NFL players."

"Smile. Now." Bonnie urged her cousin before turning her attention to Mrs. Saltzman. "Hi Caroline."

Caroline flashed a dimpled smile and engulfed Bonnie in a hug. Bonnie found herself crushed. Once Caroline let Bonnie go, the blonde redirected her attention toward Sabrina, "Hi. Who are you?"

Sabrina grinned at her frankness, "I'm Sabrina. Bonnie's first cousin. My mom and her dad are siblings."

"Oh that's so lovely." Sabrina found herself in Caroline's embrace much in the same way Bonnie was. "That is a wonderful dress. Aren't you adorable. Are you single? Because I hold singles mingles every Friday at Le Bistro."

"Caroline runs a match-maker business." Bonnie explained.

"That sounds… awesome, actually. How's your legal team?" Sabrina inquired.

"Well, we don't have a legal team. We use Kevin McCall. He does all of our legal stuff, like liability and contracts if needed." Caroline replied.

"Kevin McCall. Kevin McCall is almost 90-years-old. Can he even see the documents?" Sabrina asked.

Caroline let out a peel of laughter. "He does just fine. I haven't been sued yet."

Sabrina smirked, "Pure luck." She reached into her pocket book for business card and handed it to Caroline, "Here. If you need something, call me."

Bonnie looked on in amazement as her cousin and Caroline continued to talk as if they were old friends. Not at all like they just met five minutes ago. Bonnie reminded Sabina of their evening plans as the conversation turned to Damon Salvatore.

"Oh, well. I better go too. Alaric wanted Merlot tonight. I, of course, can't have any so he drinks enough for two. It helps him relax." Caroline nodded as if she was trying to convince herself as well as the other two ladies.

* * *

Sabrina and Bonnie arrived at a reasonable time. Not too early were they seem overly excited about two dudes making them dinner, and early enough where they could be sure that the food was homemade and not ordered from a restaurant.

Damon answered the door, eyes zeroing in on Bonnie, his arms opening to welcome her as she returned his hug. She tilted her head, offering her lips, which Damon took liberally.

That was until Sabrina cleared her throat.

Damon and Bonnie untangled themselves. He flashed a smile and did a slow (but respectful) sweep of one Sabrina Washington.

Damn. Good looks definitely ran in the Bennett clan.

Bonnie looked on in amusement as Damon kissed Sabrina's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sabrina."

Sabrina humored Damon and allowed him to take a stab at being a gentleman, before she promptly removed her hand. "Yeah, yeah Hot Stuff. But I hear there's two of you. Where's the younger, single Salvatore?"

Damon laughed at her bluntness, "Burning something I'm sure."

"Shit!" What sounded like pans crashing and utensils making a home for themselves on the floor, followed by a string of cursing that would make a sailor proud, announced Stefan's presence somewhere in the kitchen.

"Follow the swearing." Damon said, and pointed in general direction behind him "That way."

Sabrina followed the mayhem, ready to save the day if need be.

Damon winked at Bonnie. "I like her already."

Bonnie smiled an easy, joyful smile, and Damon was reminded of how down she sounded a few days earlier. She still didn't want to talk about it, but he was glad she seemed to be unaffected by whatever it was in the first place.

"She can be quite the handful," Bonnie shared.

Damon shrugged. "The same thing could be said about me. I'm not too worried."

Bonnie placed a hand against her mouth in mock shock, "Those were the exact same words Marcus Peterson said in the sixth grade."

"Peterson, huh." Peterson was now the District Attorney. "What did she do to the poor guy?"

"She made him sell his ant farm. He was never quite the same after that," Bonnie recalled.

* * *

Over a feast of leg of lamb with mint pesto, new potatoes, onions, and baby carrots, the four sat down as if they had been having dinner together for years.

Stefan and Damon took Sabrina's good-natured ribbing. Stefan took the liberty of mentioning how he made eighty percent of the meal, to which Sabrina let out an obscene moan as she took a bite of the tender lamb. "Remind me to thank you later."

Stefan narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at Sabrina, "Don't say things you don't mean."

Sabrina batted her eyes dramatically, "Who says I don't mean it?"

Stefan's jaw ticked in arousal at the challenge.

Damon scrunched up his face, "Get a room."

"Be quiet Damon. They are getting along." Bonnie fussed.

Stefan took a sip of his wine, frowning in concentration as he sampled the flavors, "This is good."

"We ran into Caroline while we were picking it up." Bonnie shared.

"Caroline." Stefan said with a sigh. "How's she doing?"

"Let me guess. You used to date her." Sabrina interrupted before Bonnie could answer Stefan's question.

Stefan raised his glass to her as if to congratulate her on her good guess, "Yeah. I dated her a while back."

"Do you still love her?" Sabrina asked.

Bonnie choked on a mouthful of potato. Damon patted her back to help her clear her throat and give her his support. Sabrina reminds him of himself. In that, he offers Bonnie his sympathies.

Stefan chuckled. "No. Not like that. Not anymore."

"That's a relief." Sabrina said under her breath, before taking a swig of her wine.

"On that note, why doesn't we talk about something else." Damon said, offering everyone an out.

"Great." Sabrina responded. She bit into a carrot and pointed her fork at her cousin. "How did you guys meet? I don't think I've ever heard your origin story."

Stefan nodded in agreement. "I don't think I've heard it either. Damon was seeing some girl a long a while ago, but he never brought her home." Stefan addressed his brother directly, "So this is a big deal. You and Bonnie."

Damon cleared his throat. He dragged his collar from his neck even though it was already unbuttoned. It wasn't the shirt that was suffocating him.

Bonnie focused on her food. She focused on cutting the lamb, on stabbing a carrot, on spearing a piece of potato, on dabbing the end of her fork with pesto.

Bonnie made a ticking sound, and Damon was painfully aware that they were taking too long to answer.

The thing is they never talked about it. Bonnie and Damon never discussed how to go about explaining to people how they met. They could have easily gone with meeting for the first time at the welcome home party thrown for Matt, but Damon had opened up his big mouth and told Stefan he knew Bonnie before that party.

Any other time he could have blamed it on drinking. However, Damon's been cutting back. Pitifully, he was sober for that heart-to-heart.

Damon grabbed the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. He thought it was a good time as any to fall off the wagon. He refilled Bonnie's glass as well because he figured it would do her some good to get sloshed.

Bonnie steadied her resolve. She put down her fork and stared Sabrina in the eyes. "I used to be Damon's Sex Surrogate."

* * *

"So let me get this straight." The foursome had moved to the living room. The wine had followed, of course.

Stefan and Sabrina tried to wrap their mind around what Bonnie had said.

"You," Sabrina states, pointing at Damon, "Are so emotionally screwed up that you go see a therapist to fix your brain. Kudos to you for recognizing that you needed help. And you," Sabrina continues, pointing at Bonnie, "Are brought in to fix his heart and his dick. That's so sweet."

"Hey! There is absolutely nothing wrong with my dick. I've never had any problems. I can get references!"

"You have sexual references? Do you have a résumé too?" Sabrina joked.

"No." Damon denied. "That Stefan's thing."

Stefan squawked before defending himself, "It was high school. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Sabrina rolled her eyes, although not in annoyance. More like affectionate exasperation. "All of the money. All of the good looks. And both of you are really dorks. I'm intrigued."

"So Bonnie was the girl you were seeing a year ago." Stefan surmised.

"Well. Yes. Or No. Definitely no." Damon corrected his first statement as Bonnie gave him a look that would have set him on fire if she had such a power.

"I don't date clients. I didn't date Damon while I was his intimacy coach. That would be completely unethical. As it is, I don't think it is completely okay for us to be seeing each other now." Bonnie stated.

"I'm morally flexible." Damon contended.

"On that note. Let's have desert." Stefan suggested. As much as he enjoyed watching Damon squirm, he took pity on his brother.

Sabrina waved the idea of food away. "I can't eat another bite. I'm stuffed." Sarina punctuated the statement by rubbing her hand over her stomach.

"It's chocolate cake." Stefan called out, already heading to the kitchen.

"Okay." Sabrina agreed rather quickly.

Bonnie wondered when it was that chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting became the highlight of her evening.

The night wasn't completely horrible in all honesty. She and Damon had answered their share of uncomfortable questions. However, the minute the cake hit her tongue, Bonnie believed that she would gladly go through the whole night again just to get to this moment. And whomever it was who had the idea to sprinkle a bit of sea salt on the top was a genius.

"I know I just met you. But I am in love with you and we should get married." Sabrina proclaimed, staring directly at Stefan as she said it.

Stefan blushed, which is something Damon hadn't seen in years. "As much as I would like to take credit for this cake, I can't. This is Damon's twenty percent."

"Well, fuck." Sabrina uttered.

"You made this?" Bonnie asked, addressing Damon. "I didn't know you baked."

"It is a bit of a hobby. I picked it up at Mom died. It started out that I wanted to make Stefan his favorite cookies. It sounded stupid. He wasn't even a kid anymore by that time. But Stefan went through a really hard time when mom passed. And I just wanted to make things easier for him. Even with something silly like cookies."

Bonnie didn't think her regard for Damon could grow any fonder.

"Well, Stefan. Damon learned how to bake for you. What did you do for him?" Sabrina asked, half serious in her interrogation.

Stefan thought for a moment about how honest he should be. He figured now was a fine time to be candid, "I forgave him. I continued to believe that he loved me. Even when he hurt me."

Sabrina wisely stayed mum, not want to poke at what obviously was one hell of a story.

"I don't know if my brother knows that meaning of being selfless. It's not like he's never done something nice for another person. That's not true. He's very kind and giving. But there is usually a catch. There is usually something in it for him." Bonnie admitted.

Sabrina snorted, "Rick is an asshole sometimes. He thinks first of what he wants, then doesn't conceive of the fall out. Like when he let Sean into your home. Even after everything, you would think Rick had common sense."

Bonnie's eyes widened at the mention of the name. When she had shared details of the incident with Sabrina, she pretty much left out the fact that she hadn't told Damon any of it.

Yet.

She would have gotten to it eventually.

Damon frowned, not familiar with the name. "Who's Sean?"

Sabrina forked a piece of cake in her mouth and remained silent as her eyes vollyed between Bonnie and Damon.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Hello readers! A big 'Thank You' to the people who review my stories. Reviews let me know if I'm doing alright…

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER NINE**_

 _This phase is mark by_ _quick cycles of muscle contraction_ _…_

Bonnie and Damon decided to take a walk after dinner. Bonnie wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave Stefan and Sabrina by themselves but the determined look on Damon's face suggested that she has some explaining to do.

The first few moments were marked by silence. Just the two of them strolling about, seemingly without a care. The night was chilly, so she wrapped her jacket around her tighter. She wondered if it was the night she was shielding herself from the cold, or from Damon's wrath.

Damon stopped suddenly, and looked ahead, not really focusing on anything.

Bonnie was nothing if not brave. "Before you say anything, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry. It was stupid." Bonnie's voice petered out towards the end, glaringly aware that she was being as ridiculous as she sounded.

"If it were stupid, you would have told me." Damon responded.

To his credit, he was working to sound neutral. Not unaffected, actually. But he tried hard not to sound angry.

Jealous.

Hopeless.

Bonnie had the sense to look shamefaced. "I know I should have told you. But there never seemed a right time to say 'can we talk about my ex-boyfriend.'"

Damon continued to gaze at nothing, not making eye contact, for his sake as much as hers. "When I called you to tell you about the plans for tonight, he was there with you, wasn't he?"

"No. He had left. He wanted to let bygones be bygones, and in theory, I guess I am okay with that. But he wanted to somehow be best friends again, and that really upset me. It made me angry to think he could just wipe away what he did and that I would be okay with it."

"Do you still love him?" Damon cursed himself for asking. It seemed a silly move on his part. He would like to think he knew Bonnie better than that. She wouldn't be with him if she loved another.

"No. I'm not in love with him, if that's what you are asking. He just moved in with his girlfriend." Bonnie didn't know why she shared that. It wasn't like it truly meant anything. In her experience, if two people wanted to be together, a pesky thing like having a girlfriend or boyfriend didn't make much of a difference. At least not to Sean. Certainly not to Jennifer.

"What happened between you?" Damon was doing the right thing wasn't he? He asked what he really wanted to know, which was if Bonnie had any intention of leaving him for this Sean dude. She said 'no'. Well, 'no' in not so many words. Second on the agenda is trying to be a supportive boyfriend. Asking after Bonnie's welfare, and all that jazz.

"I would gladly give you all the gory details if you looked at me. It's hard to talk to a wall. However attractive that wall might be." Bonnie replied.

Damon tuned to face her. He tried to examine his feelings at the moment. Relief, decidedly. Something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. Perhaps frustration.

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage. You know everything about me and my past and I feel like I have to dig every day to learn things about you." Yep. Definitely frustration.

Bonnie laughed and waved her hands at Damon's increasingly distressed face, hoping to dispel any insult to injury.

"I'm not laughing at you. I'm just laughing because we both have some work ahead of us in the love department. Look, usually, we are supposed to find out new things about each other. Even if we end up together for the rest of our lives, and you know how I like my coffee and toast, there will always be things to learn about each other. That is how it works. We grow and change. We met under some pretty intense circumstance. Our relationship basically dictated that I knew as much as I could about you. But that doesn't mean I'm tired of you, or that I've had my full yet."

See, Damon is pretty sure that he could cut out the bullshit if he just verbalized what the hell he was feeling and actually worked at establishing logical thoughts after illogical ones crop up in his head. He could've easily told himself the things Bonnie just told him, but he didn't.

Instead of focusing on his minor failure, he asked, "Is that why you sounded strange when I called?"

Bonnie was so graceful that she didn't blink at his habit of changing direction, and re-focusing on something previously discussed without warning.

As she got to know him, she found that when he was upset or perturbed by something, he tended to go into information gathering mode. He'd plow on with all his list of question he has building up in his mind before he processed any of it. He has gotten better at allowing his brain to breathe and interpret what he's hearing, likely curtesy of Birkham.

"Yes, Sean was the reason I was bothered."

"How long did he stick around?"

"Not too long. I may have kicked him out after he attempted a kumbaya moment."

Damon ignored Bonnie's attempt to make light of the situation. "How long has it been since you've seen him?"

Bonnie blew out air at the length of time. "A while. Years."

"And you don't love him right? I mean if he cold magically make whatever he did go away, and he begs you to come back to him, you wouldn't right?"

Bonnie took a moment to consider how she should answer before she eventually replied, "If he were capable of avoiding what he did in the first place, he and I would not be in this situation in the first place. I think you are asking a different question, here. You want to know if my forgiving him will in some way mean that we will get back together. No. Forgiveness doesn't mean people go back to business as usual. I've already forgiven him. At least in theory. But what he did still makes me angry. Not because I want to be with him. But because he hurt me."

Damon wished he could be satisfied with that answer, and in some ways he was nullified at Bonnie's response. He still worked very hard to not let his insecurities consume him.

The two walk back to the house, holding each other's hand. They leaned into each other, their forms pressing close.

Damon felt like telling Bonnie that he loved her. The urge was thick at the back of his throat, heavy with the weight of his emotion. He knew she wouldn't laugh at him now like she did before when he had confessed his supposed love. He cheapened it then. The words in his vocabulary rarely went outside of "love" or "hate." His fault, really, for never knowing the difference. For finding simplicity in over-exaggeration.

But boy, he thought he felt it now. It was how Bonnie managed to talk him off the ledge.

When Bonnie and Damon walked through the door of the boardinghouse, Stefan and Sabrina jumped apart is if they were doing something naughty.

Sabrina sported an impish grin on her face, eyes shining wickedly. Stefan seemed calm. Perhaps too calm if his pink-stained ears, and reddened cheeks were anything to go by.

"Aww, Stefan. It looks like we won't be playing that game of strip poker. Rain check?" Sabrina didn't wait for his response, already gathering her things to go.

Bonnie refused to comment, thinking it better to leave things as it were. "I will get Sabrina home. I'll come back so we can talk."

"You're okay to drive?" Damon asked, concern marring his handsome face.

"Yeah. Sabrina seemed to have the most out of all of us. The fresh air sobered me up. Anyway, you should check on your brother. He seems...bothered."

Damon snorted "Yeah, 'bothered' is one word for it."

* * *

Damon waited for a perfectly respectable five minutes before hounding his brother for details.

"So what did you and Sabrina get up to while Bonnie and I were gone?"

Stefan seemed to focus on a spot on the dish he was washing. Scrubbing thoroughly until spick and span. They owned a dishwasher but the Salvatore brothers found it therapeutic to do the dishes, Stefan cleaning and Damon drying. Repetitive, surely. But relaxing nevertheless.

"Nothing, really. You two interrupted us before anything good happened." Stefan finally answered.

Damon bobbed his head in agreement, "It would appear you two didn't get that far little brother, but something definItely happened."

Stefan placed a wet plate in Damon's hands. "Nothing happened." He reiterated, a silent plea in his eyes for his brother to drop it.

Damon stared, searching Stefan's usually expressive face for clues."Now I'm really curious."

"So what is up with this Sean guy?" The question wasn't a deflection. Stefan was genuine in his concern.

Damon blew outward, breath leaving his lungs at the mention of Bonnie's ex. "I don't know, man. He and Bonnie have been broken up for a while. He wants to be 'friends' with her or something." Damon's fingers formed quotation marks in the air framing the words. "She doesn't love him. But it's the principle of it I guess. I mean, what would you do if Elena came back to The Falls to offer her friendship?"

Stefan seemed to think for a moment, even pausing his movements. "I don't know. I guess I'm still angry, even though I know that is not healthy for me. It's not like I still love her or anything. But I'm still hurt I guess."

Damon was startled into the realization that Stefan sounded a bit like Bonnie. He reasoned. "But you forgave me. You aren't angry at me."

Stefan considered it. He tossed the thoughts around. "Forgiving you was more for my sake than yours. To think that I don't have the love of my life anymore, but worst because she ran off with you. I was devastated at the thought that I wouldn't have my brother. "

* * *

"To thank the younger Mr. Salvatore for his culinary efforts, I promised to send him dirty texts for a week."

Sabrina didn't need much prompting from Bonnie. Plus, she figured it would be a good time to focus on Stefan and not on the fact that she opened her big mouth during dinner.

Bonnie nibbled her bottom lip, lost in her thoughts. "I should be mad at you. You are number three on my shit list."

Sabrina blinked, her lashes fanning her face in her best Bambi impression. "We're family. You can't stay mad at me. You know about my condition."

Bonnie frowned in confusion. "What condition?"

Sabrina huffed, as if she had explained this several times already. "I was born without a filter. My thoughts go straight to my mouth, with nothing in between to moderate."

Bonnie gave her cousin a look out of the side of her eyes, her lips pursed in equal parts displeasure and disbelief.

"Well at least tell me who are number one and number two."

"Rick. Sean. You are three. Matt Donovan is number four."

Sabrina squinted, the last name sparking recognition in her brain. "Donovan, Donovan. I feel like I should know who that is."

" _Manifest Destiny_ video game co-creator."

"Oh my gosh, yes. Yasss! I met him once while I was in New York. He and his business partner Tyler Lockwood. They were speaking at an entrepreneurial conventional. Hey, how do you know all of these rich and handsome dudes? I thought your business was books."

"It is books. But I happen to bump into people all of the time."

Sabrina's phone went off just then. "It's called me a chicken. Look there's even a little chicken face emoji." She leaned over with her phone in her hand to show her cousin.

"Cute. What's this about sexting?" Bonnie asked, going back to the first issue.

"Oh don't sound so disapproving. It's just good fun. Totally platonic." Sabrina shared.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow in scepticism. "Platonic." She reiterated, the word flat and dry.

"Well. Platonic to a point. Stefan and I are getting to know each other. Friends and such."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "So you are going to send naked pictures to a platonic friend."

Sabrina made an equine sound in her throat. "No one said anything about fully nude pics. I'm totally going the Olivia Munn route. Some well placed lingerie and lots and lots of salacious words. Besides, he dared me. Our clan don't back down from dares."

"Suppose I were to believe you, that you and Stefan were just friends. How come he looked like he got his hand caught in the cookie jar when Damon and I came back from our walk?"

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "I gave Stefan a little preview. I guess it was too hot for him."

* * *

The next morning, Damon suggested "You could stay for breakfast." He escorted Bonnie down the stairs leading away from the master bedrooms into the main foyer.

"I can't. I have to make a stop at my place before I go to work."

"But it's Friday. Who works on a Friday?"

Bonnie checked for her keys. "Everyone works on a Friday. Don't you and Stefan have a company to run?"

Damon led Bonnie into the kitchen hoping to sway her with coffee. "We work remotely from home."

Damon saw that Stefan was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, already armed with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. "You didn't make breakfast yet?" Damon asked the younger Salvatore.

"It's your turn. I want an omelet. And bacon. And toast." After issuing orders, Stefan turned his attention to Bonnie, "Good morning, Bonnie. Did you sleep well?"

Bonnie blushed hard, the flush noticeable on her brown skin.

Damon smacked Stefan in the back of his head, "Excuse Stefan. He's never seen - " He stopped mid-sentence. "a girl before." The newspaper that Stefan launched at him, hit him square in the face.

Bonnie grinned "Yeah, well. I'll leave you to your work." She exited the kitchen.

Damon caught up with her before she left the boarding house. He wrapped his arms around her, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "You. Me. This Sunday. Hiking."

Bonnie let her hand linger at the back of his head, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Sure. Sounds fun."

He let her go. He stood at the door for a moment. He feels a little like a dog that pants in front of the door until their own comes home.

He greeted Stefan with "You're an idiot" when he re-entered the kitchen.

He took the eggs, milk, cheese, and bacon out of the refrigerator. He riffled through the cabinets. It is only after gathering everything he needs to make breakfast, that he fires up the range to start cooking. "Hey Stef, you want a refill?" Damon called over his shoulder, already reaching for the pot of coffee.

"That would be great. Thanks." Stefan lifted his mug up without removing his gaze from his phone. "Katie is sending over floor plans for the Sullivan Center development."

Katie Donovan was Matt's little sister. The twenty-year old worked as the Salvatore's assistant for three years. She was also a student at Whitmore College.

"We should schedule something next week with the board members on how we are going to present this to the community. We tell people we are knocking down the rec center to build a new one, people are only going to hear the first part." Stefan continued.

Damon frowned in annoyance. "Don't people want new things? It's not like we're building a mall there or something. Besides, the city contracted us to do it."

"But that doesn't mean that people don't have a sentimental connection to old things." Stefan paused to sip his coffee as he perused his phone. He opened a text from Sabrina. "People feel con-" Stefan started to cough violently.

Damon patted his back. "Drink went the wrong way?"

Stefan clears his throat, his face flushed red from what Damon assumed was his choking experience. Stefan's eyes stayed glued to his phone, re-reading a recent text. He jumped when Damon looked over his shoulder to take a peek. "I'm actually going to, uh, take this upstairs, uh, just...I will be down when breakfast is ready."

With that, Stefan beat a hasty retreat upstairs to his bedroom.

* * *

Damon and Bonnie decided to trek the loop around Seneca Creek.

"You tired yet?" Damon asked, his short-sleeve shirt damp with sweat.

Bonnie took in air before responding, "Nope. Are you tired, old man?"

Damon grinned. "Old man? I'll show you old man."

He grabbed her by the loop of her shorts, pulling her into his space. He bent down and planted his face in the crook of her neck. He pressed his lips there, tasting salt and another flavor that distinctly belonged to Bonnie.

Bonnie hummed in response. "Is this supposed to be my punishment?"

He kissed her then, his tongue swiping across her lips before she granted him access. Bonnie held on to him as he devoured her mouth, her grip tight on his shoulders and her nails digging through his shirt.

He let go of her for a moment to drop his backpack on the ground. Once free, he lifted Bonnie off the ground. She needed no encouragement to wrap her legs and arms around him. She met his kisses, wiggling urgently his grip as he held her as if she weighed nothing.

Both were startled at what sounded like cracking footsteps. "We shouldn't be doing this. Not out in the open."

"Let me dry hump you for like, five minutes, and I swear we'll get back to the trail." Damon bargained.

Bonnie considered for a moment before quickly agreeing."Deal."

It took a bit longer than five minutes but they continued their hike. They reached the backcountry, water clear and glistening in the setting sun.

Damon pulled out his phone take pictures. He pulled Bonnie to him, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, her own hand linking their fingers together to secure his hold around her.

"Say cheese." Damon urged. They both grinned. Maniacally probably. Like sweaty lunatics.

Damon turned his head at the last picture, his eyes resting on Bonnie.

"You're not even looking into the camera." Bonnie commented.

"It's hard to focus when I have such a beautiful view."

Bonnie nodded. "This creek is stunning."

Damon shook his head. "I wasn't talking about the creek."

Bonnie stepped away from him.

He took a few more pictures. He then noticed that some ended up in the 'work/publicity' folder instead of 'personal.'

"Damon." Bonnie called before he could switch the photographs to the appropriate folder.

He looked up, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What is it?"

Bonnie breathed deeply before gathering courage. "It's probably too soon. Or maybe not too soon, but still awkward. But I feel like if I don't say this now it's going to drive me crazy."

Damon glanced at her, his eyes worried.

"I love you." She said quietly.

"You love me?" Damon asked, touching the middle of his chest.

"Yes. I love you. I am in love with you." Bonnie said it in such a deliberate manner. No stumbling over her words.

Damon pocketed the phone and walked over to her. When he was standing in front of her, he framed her face with both of his hands. "Listen to me very carefully, Bonnie Bennett. I'm in love with you. If I had to redo every stupid mistake I've ever done just to get to this moment. Here. With you. Right now. I would do it. Millions times. I love you. And it's absent of misery and deceit, and abject failure. I just...I just want to be with you. And I'm happy. You make me happy."

Bonnie smiled a watery smile. "You make me happy too."

They hugged, then. Holding each other tight.

Damon put everything else aside for now.

Damon figured he will move the pictures of him and Bonnie later, before they synced to cloud.

* * *

Katie grinned at her desk. She had a wealth of photos she had to chose from to update Damon Salvatore's Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook accounts.

But before making such a huge decision, she wanted her boss' input. She knocked on the door and let herself in on his muffled grunt.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Katie." He pushed and pulled his papers on his desk, some forms giving up the fight and falling to the floor.

"I see you are busy so I won't bother you long. I am updating social media. I already posted the pictures from the Army Wives charity dinner from last week on the company's accounts. I'm doing the personal ones now."

"Don't forget to post a link to Stefan's _GQ_ article." Damon reminded Katie.

"Already done. I'm working on yours now. Should I post some of the pictures of you hiking with Bonnie." Katie asked, feigning nonchalance.

Damon was distracted as it is. "Yeah. Yes. Do that." His head turned down, right hand moving rapidly to write his signature.

"Should I change your Facebook relationship status too." Katie added, innocently.

"What?" Damon finally looked up. "Sure. Yes. Katie I trust you. Do whatever you do to make us look good, okay?" Damon made a mental note to re-work the electrical wiring at the Grill. As it stands, renovations were moving along nicely.

Katie smiled good-naturedly. "As you wish Mr. Salvatore."

She closed the door behind her, and headed to her desk.

A few taps on the keyboard. A few clicks here and there, and Damon Salvatore was no longer Mystic Falls' most eligible bachelor.

* * *

 **Casting Note:**

Katie Donovan looks like actress Kim Matula.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Depending on the interest, at some point I will write an interlude with the week's worth of dirty text between Stefan and Sabrina.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for your patience. Reviews are love.

* * *

 _ **CHAPTER TEN**_

 _Come and whisper in my ear_

 _Give us dirty laundry..._

As soon as Bonnie opened her front door, a flash blinded her. Men (and one woman) with cameras in their hands stared taking pictures. A few started yelling things at her. One photographer told her she looked better than her pictures.

"Less sweaty," the man shouted.

Bonnie promptly closed her door. Forget the newspaper. She could totally deal without it right now.

Her brother stayed slumping on her couch, a bowl of cereal in her hands, a Froot Loop dangling from his lips as milk dribbled down his chin.

Bonnie frowned in disgust. "I hope you didn't eat all of my cereal."

"There's more." Rick responded, around a mouthful of fruit flavored heaven.

Bonnie jumped when her phone started to ring, a shrill sound piercing the room.

"You should get that." Rick suggested.

Bonnie wondered, not for the first time, if there was any way she could disown her brother without their parents intervening.

Bonnie sighed at the name before she answered the call. "It's a bit early Sabrina."

"I don't even get a 'hello' anymore?" Sabrina complained.

"I'm just trying to get the day started. I have to be to work in an hour, and I'm going to kill someone if I don't get my cereal. And there's a bunch of weird people taking pictures of me, which probably means someone did something stupid at Lakehouse. But you are right. Good morning. How are you? Why are you calling me?"

Sabrina squealed a bit, as if she was just bursting to talk. "Turn on your television. Gayle King is talking about you on _CBS This Morning._ "

"What?" Bonnie squeaked before complying.

"Hey! I was watching that." Rick called out.

"Shut up." Bonnie mumbled, not bothering to directly address her brother since this was _her_ house, and _her_ television.

 _"The Salvatores have been single for a while. It's good to see Damon getting out there. You interviewed them before, right Charlie?"_

 _"I have, Gayle. And they are intensely private. They very much still consider themselves West Virginian boys. They still live in the house they grew up in. Bonnie Bennett must be something special to go public."_

Bonnie gasped at the mention of her name. An irrational part of her told her brain that her ears are lying.

"I'll call you back." Bonnie stated, absent-minded in her disbelief. She ended the call with her cousin.

Bonnie turned to NBC, hoping to wipe out all that she'd seen, only to see a news blurb about her on the _Today_ _Show._ A woman that called herself a media expert, who also happened to work for _OK_ magazine was discussing Bonnie's life so casually.

 _"Bonnie Bennett is definitely not a stranger to celebrity. But she definitely holds the reigns which Mr. Salvatore definitely likes. Her PR skills at Lakehouse are legendary. She was really focal in getting Lindsey Lohan to publish her first book of poetry. And she talked Charlie Sheen into publishing his memoir, which will be out in the fall of 2018. She was there when Karen Scholar had her nervous breakdown."_

"I met Charlie once at a party in L.A. He only talked to me because he thought I was someone else." Bonnie argued with the television.

 _"She's definitely handy. The Salvatores definitely need a firm hand. Their usually private, so it was definitely a shock when Damon Salvatore posted pictures of their hiking trip. But we are definitely seeing a trend of people just confirming things on Instagram and Twitter. Rob Kardashian and Blac Chyna announced that that were having a baby through Instagram._ _The public are the first to know the really big announcements._

Bonnie wondered if the media correspondent knew any other word besides 'definitely'.

"They are talking about me as if I'm not a person. Like I'm just a PR weapon of mass destruction."

Rick nodded in obvious enjoyment, "Yeah. Isn't it cool?"

Rick put down his spoon and checked his phone. He laughed out loud after a moment. "Ha. You're even Tumblr famous. "

"How could I be Tumblr famous? I don't even have a blog."

"You have fan blogs. .com. .com. There's already shitload of rpf."

Bonnie pressed the tips of her fingers against her forehead, hoping to massage away the incoming headache. "What's a Bamon?"

Rick stared at his sister like she was stupid. "It's a mashup of your and Damon's first names. Like Bennifer. Or Brangelina."

"What's rpf?"

Rick gave his sister a levelled look. "You don't want to know."

Bonnie's phone ringed again. Before she could issue a polite 'hello', she heard a voice that made her morning not so horrible. "On a scale from one to ten. One being your favorite flowers and ten meaning I have to make a stop at Tiffany's. How mad are you?"

This was a new dynamic for them. Damon groveling. Bonnie never expected presents or gifts from Damon, strangely enough.

It's not like she doesn't like nice things. She's just used to buying things for herself.

When Damon and Bonnie had begun dating, he had tried to shower with things. Bonnie refused the gifts because she felt weird about the motivation behind his offerings. She felt he was just trying to use material things to keep her interest.

Now that they were more stable, Bonnie wasn't opposed to gifts. Within reason, of course.

Bonnie smiled despite the morning's woes. "I would have liked a little heads up first. But I am not mad at you. Not really. More perplexed, than anything, at the media coverage. But something sparkly would help." Bonnie joked.

Damon laughed, a carefree sound that Bonnie adored. "I knew you only wanted me for my money. What's this about you being Charlie Sheen's best pal?"

"No truth whatsoever. We talked at a party once before he realized I was the wrong person apparently."

Bonnie continued her conversation with Damon, completely ignoring her brother. She walked to her window and wondered how she would get to her car with all the paparazzi around.

* * *

Victoria Luckhard prided herself on being sensible, fair, and willing to give credit where credit was due.

As the editor in chief of Lakehouse, she viewed herself as successful. And she genuinely wanted her employees at the publishing house to be successful as well.

Truly.

Honestly.

As long as they stayed in their place.

"Bonnie, you know we at Lakehouse really value all that you've contributed."

Bonnie sat across from Victoria, wondering why she was in her boss' office and not finalizing details of Ty Carter's _From the Rough_ book tour. The former NFL player decided to right a memoir about his battle with ALS.

"I really appreciate you saying that, Victoria. It means a lot to me."

Instead of suggesting that Bonnie go back to work, Victoria continued to talk. "Our commissioning editor finding new talent, don't you think?"

Bonnie nodded her head before she verbally agreed, "Biyu is wonderful."

Bonnie felt the need not to mention the vampire manuscript that she had proofread earlier in her career. Biyu Meng usually did a great job of finding talent and she had a great read (pun intended) on the market audience.

"And I am doing a good job here, aren't I?" Victoria continued.

Bonnie tensed. She fought to maintain a neutral face, when she felt anything but.

"Yes, Victoria. I would say you do a good job. More than a good actually." Bonnie added for good measure.

"And you are happy, aren't you?"

Bonnie blinked rapidly. She was starting to get that feeling of dread that a kid gets in the principal's office. She knew she was in trouble. But do the life of her she couldn't phantom what for?

Bonnie did her job and she did it well. Victoria was being pissy for some reason. This line of questioning was redundant in the most insulting way, really. And Bonnie was two minutes from telling Ms. Luckhard to kiss her ass.

"I like my job. Yes."

"Then why am I just finding out that you are dating one of the most eligible bachelor's in Virginia? I thought we were friends."

'Since when?' was Bonnie's first thought. What came out of her mouth was something different.

"I don't make it a habit of discussing my personal like. You know that, Victoria."

Victoria waved a hand as if dismissing Bonnie's reasoning as nonsense, "But we are close, aren't we Bonnie? I'm not just anyone. Didn't I let you stay in my Beach house that one summer?"

It wasn't an entire summer. Bonnie stayed there three days tops. Victoria forgot to mention she was having the house fumigated. Imagine Bonnie's surprise when she woke up one morning to find exterminators tenting the property with plastic.

So. Much. Plastic.

Bonnie called Victoria, who was vacationing in Paris at the time. Victoria graciously offered for Bonnie to stay throughout the fumigation process.

Bonnie declined, of course. She didn't want to die of poisoning. Besides, methyl bromide did horrible things to one's skin.

Bonnie tried for diplomacy. "Victoria, I value our….relationship. I don't want you to think I was hiding anything from you. He hasn't even met my parents yet. You understand?"

Victoria nodded sagely. "Of course. Of course." She agreed.

Bonnie tuned her out as she continued to talk and was only spared further inanity because Victoria's secretary, Kit, interrupted with a conference call from Lakehouse's flagship publishing house based in New York.

Just as Bonnie was making her escape as Victoria was exchanging pleasantries with Eric Golder, the Executive Editor, Victoria her hand covered the phone, muffling the mouth piece. "Promise me we will have lunch. You can give me all of the dirty details."

Bonnie's face stretched into a grimace that Victoria will mistake for a grin. "Sure."

* * *

Bonnie did what she knew best at her desk. Plan. Review. Plan. Organize. Plan. Network. And steadily ignored her phone. It vibrated so much, it skidded across her desk.

Kit interrupted her. "Bonnie, you have a call from your mother."

Bonnie signed heavily. And she sighed some more. "I'll pick up." Instantly, one of the phone lines glared red, as if angered. Demanding that Bonnie picked up her office phone.

"Are you dead, my dear?" Bonnie's mother asked politely, after Bonnie raised the earpiece. "I hope you are dead. Because the only reason you should ignore your mother when she calls you is if you are not breathing."

Abby wasn't one to scold, of course.

"I am working. I couldn't answer my cell. Is everything okay? Is dad okay?"

"You know perfectly well why I am calling. When are you bringing Damon over so your father and I can meet him? I'll cook. I'll make my zucchini, black bean, and rice skillet. You liked that the last time I made it, right?"

Bonnie liked her mother's vegan dishes just fine. However, Bonnie missed her grandmother's cooking in times like these. She knew her father did as well. Although Sheila and Rudy had a somewhat tense relationship as in-laws, she loved to cook for the family. Which became more common place in the period that Abby took "some time off" from being a wife and mother.

Bonnie's brother, on the other hand, ate anything as long as it was edible. And sometimes, not even then.

"Your skillets are delicious. But maybe Dad can cook." Bonnie softly suggested.

"I'm surrounded by meat eaters, "Abby muttered. "When can we meet him?" she asked much louder.

"How about Friday evening?" That gave Bonnie four days to prep Damon, including tonight.

"Can't Friday. Your dad and I do yoga."

Bonnie protested. "Yoga doesn't take a whole day."

Abby didn't want to explain that she and Rudy usually do yoga in the nude, which usually led to other things. Which meant the skillet, nor would anything else get done.

Well, Abby would get done. But that is not a story for Bonnie. In Abby's opinion, Bonnie was still too shy about those things. Even something as natural as sex.

Abby had hoped that being a sex surrogate would be freeing for Bonnie. But the poor girl still got uncomfortable when her parents kissed.

"Saturday is better." Abby offered.

"Saturday it is." Bonnie had five days now, at least.

* * *

Bonnie's day wasn't the worst it has been.

It was tiring sure, fielding calls left and right from media and so called journalist wanting to get a comment from her.

Damon called six times before she told him he was being obsessive. It was great that he wanted to see how she was doing. However, Damon had a tendency to follow his compulsions to the extreme. Sometimes, with not-so-good results.

She was feeling smothered. There she said it. She felt claustrophobic. Not necessarily because of Damon (well a little bit because of Damon), but by other things too. Hopefully something else will happen and everyone will move on.

She was grateful the Rick managed to clean up after himself. Sometime in the near future, she planned to sit him down and talk to him about getting his own place. She'll even help him look for an apartment.

She heated up a frozen dinner, already knowing how she will not enjoy it. She'll choke it down for nourishment. For base hunger, she'll chew on microwave toughened meal to fill her tummy.

She turned on the television to watch _Jeopardy_ while she waited for her food to heat up.

Bonnie's phone vibrated. She scoffed when she saw it was a text from Sean, asking if she were okay. Bonnie long ago deleted his contact, but she recognized the number. A creature of habit, it seemed Sean never changed his number.

What really interested her was how he got her number.

Bonnie couldn't muster enough energy to do anything about it. She bet it was her brother. Or it could have been her father. He always liked Sean.

She ate her Stouffer's pizzawith a glass of wine as she relaxed on her couch and let the tension leak out of her head and shoulders.

The shower she took after dinner served to further release the tautness of her arms and legs. She chose to watch more television after her shower because she wanted something that she could escape into.

She's not in bed a minute before her phone vibrates with a text from Damon.

 _I promise I'm not obsessing. I just wanted to tell you that I love you._

Bonnie smiled wide. She responded immediately.

 _I love you too. I will talk to you tomorrow._

Bonnie was content to let the day end on that wonderfully high note. She made the mistake of flipping through channels. She landed on a local news channel, and was greeted with the face of the local weather girl.

After the five-day forecast, the focus was shifted to the two main anchors. The man smirked as he reported stocks closing at an all-time low. The woman smiled cheerfully, even as she reported about an entire family dying in a car crash.

Next up, a correspondent seem to be going on and on about the latest trend in everyday people going to therapy to help their marriage.

The correspondent was interviewing a man that looked very familiar. Bonnie was then met with a face she hadn't seen in some time.

His hair was longer. There was a bit of stubble that had grown in on his face. When she first met him he had been such a puppy. He and his wife had just gotten married. They were relatively young. She was used to couples who were older, and well into their marriages.

 _"So you were seeking her services to fix your marriage. Did it seem strange for you to let a stranger into your bedroom?"_

 _"It wasn't strange because she was a professional. It was part of my therapy. I had complete and total faith in her and in my therapist. It was either be in a marriage in which I was unhappy because I couldn't be myself, and my wife was unhappy because she couldn't understand what was making me unhappy or get professional help. I was really ashamed, you know. I was really ashamed."_

 _"But when your therapist suggested a sex surrogate, what did you think?"_

 _"I was skeptical. But I knew I needed help communicating my needs to my wife."_

 _"So you are in a female-led relationship. What is that exactly?"_

 _"I think a lot of people have different ideas of what that term means for their relationship. I have social anxiety disorder. And this type of relationship, for me, it decreases my anxiety. I don't have to worry about doing anything wrong or saying the wrong thing. I don't have to stress about my duties to my wife. I don't have to guess. Bonnie Bennett helped me with that."_

The interview is cut by the male anchor, who urged the viewers to tune in tomorrow night for part two of the exclusive interview with Mark Newman.

And of course, more about Damon Salvatore' s girlfriend, who used to be a sex surrogate.

* * *

 **Casting Note** :

Mark Newman looks like Sebastian Stan.

 **Reference** :

 _Dirty Laundry_ by Don Henley


End file.
